Wanted: Responsible Adult
by Sarah1281
Summary: After driving his first crush to a nunnery, Romeo swears he'll never love again...until he sees a very pretty girl. So what if she's thirteen? Her family hates him anyway! And Juliet's just glad to get away her really old almost-fiancé, her mother who is determined to add as many greats to grandmother as she can in her lifetime, and her really inappropriate nurse. It's true love.
1. Act 1

Act 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Romeo & Juliet.

"Do you know," Sampson said as he walked along the street, "what I _really_ hate?"

"The fact that we do not get paid _nearly _enough for all the work that we put in?" Gregory guessed.

Sampson frowned. "Oh, well, I suppose there is _that_ but I wasn't talking about such trivial concerns. I'm talking about real, deep hatred."

"The plague?" Gregory tried again.

Sampson rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about something serious here!"

"And wiping out such a sizable portion of our population wasn't serious?" Gregory asked, surprised.

"Not when you compare it to the very existence of our hated rivals, the House of Montague!" Sampson declared grandly.

Gregory just stared at him. "Since when was the House of Montague _our_ hated rivals? I don't remember agreeing to this…"

Sampson knocked him on the head. "How can you not know our history? The mighty Capulets whom we loyally serve and the despicable Montagues who aren't worthy of living in the same state!"

"No, I know about all of that," Gregory told him. "It's just that I don't see why _you_ care so much about it. Me, this is just a job for me. I need to eat and, aside from my wife, my family members won't get jobs themselves and seem to expect me to support them. I take pride in my work, certainly, but this isn't my whole life."

"But what about Capulet loyalty?" Sampson demanded, outraged.

"I am not a Capulet and neither are you," Gregory pointed out. "And I doubt either our masters or the Montagues would even notice if we did try to get involved. They kind of don't pay any attention to us unless we do something extremely wrong and they're going to yell at us about it. I've actually been fired twice and just reported to work the next day and they didn't notice the difference."

"It's not surprising you've been fired if you have so little pride in serving the great Capulets!" Sampson cried out. "And the _Montague_ servants care about this bitter, bitter feud between our two households."

"It's not _our_ households," Gregory reiterated. "And are you seriously saying you'd rather be like a Montague?"

"Well…I…" Sampson looked flustered for a moment before shaking himself. "Look, all I'm saying is that I want to kill all Montague men and sleep with all Montague women!"

"All of them?" Gregory asked, making a face.

Sampson nodded. "Yes, all of them. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just the fact that some of them are really old or really young or really ugly," Gregory explained. "And why would you want to sleep with them if you hate them so much?"

"It's _because _I hate them," Sampson replied.

Gregory started backing away from him. "Okay, now you're sounding like some kind of sexual predator…"

Sampson was easily distracted. "Hey look! Two Montague servants! Quick, help me brainstorm ideas about how to provoke them into a fight without breaking the law."

"I will not," Gregory said crossly. "I don't _want _to get into a fight. And why do you want to provoke them anyway? They haven't done anything!"

"They've dared to exist within my line of sight," Sampson growled. "And before you say anything, no I don't care that they're probably just trying to feed their families. Oh! I've got it!" He looked right at the servants, waited until they were looking back at him, and bit his thumb right in front of them.

They immediately went crazy and tried to kill him.

"A little help here!" Sampson cried out.

Gregory shrugged and continued on his way.

"What's this?" Benvolio Montague cried out as he stumbled upon the scene. "Silly servants, whatever are you getting into scrapes for? Break it up."

The two Montague servants reluctantly withdrew.

"Yeah, that's right!" Sampson said, coughing up blood. "You'd better run!"

"What's going on here?" Tybalt Capulet demanded as he, too, happened upon this very well-travelled street.

"Nothing much," Benvolio told him. "I was just stopping our servants from trying to kill each other for no real reason."

"I believe you," Tybalt said after a moment's consideration. "Unfortunately, there is literally nothing else to do here besides fight and so I say let's try to kill each other!"

"I'd really rather not-" Benvolio began but Tybalt lunged at him and he was forced to defend himself.

"Look! A fight!" a random citizen yelled, punching another random citizen in the jaw.

The random citizens started to pummel each other.

"They're at it again," another citizen grumbled. "I say that we beat up the people who started this fight and hopefully make them think twice about starting another brawl when decent people are just trying to get on with their lives."

He and several others took out clubs and went to go after the still-fighting Montague and Capulet supporters.

The brawl abruptly stopped when Lords Montague and Capulet entered, trailing behind their wives.

"Really?" Lady Montague asked, gasping. "He said that?"

Lady Capulet grinned and nodded. "Oh, he most certainly said that. I think he might have even meant it, too!"

Lords Montague and Capulet were fidgeting and trying to pretend that their wives were happily chatting like they weren't in the middle of an epic family feud.

Lord Capulet brightened suddenly. "Look, a fight! I'm going to kill you, you Montague bastard!"

"Not if I kill you first!" Montague looked far happier than being threatened should have made him.

"Oh, stop it," Lady Montague snapped. "Can't you see that Elena and I are in the middle of something? If you start fighting then we won't be able to hear a thing!"

"That goes for you, too," Lady Capulet told her husband pointedly.

The two sighed in unison. "Yes dear."

Prince Escalus grandly road onto the scene then. "Everybody, stop you're fighting!" He looked around. "Oh, you already stopped. Good. Now you had better _stay _stopped fighting because this is seriously ridiculous. People should be able to walk down the street without a brawl breaking out and, more importantly, I shouldn't constantly be called to make peace! The very next person that I see fighting – and everybody I see after that – will be tortured. A lot. Just how much depends on how annoyed I am. In fact, let's just declare that whoever starts the fight is going to be killed on the spot. Now, Montague and Capulet, we'll talk later after my urge to kill you all gets back to a manageable level."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left. Grumbling, everyone but Benvolio and his aunt and uncle left as well.

"Okay, what happened?" Lady Montague demanded.

"I have no idea," Benvolio admitted. "When I walked by two of our servants were attacking one of the Capulet servants. I broke it up but then Tybalt was bored and so restarted the whole thing. That man needs a hobby or something. He's involved with virtually every altercation our families have."

"Yes, well, life is rather dull," Lord Montague said wistfully.

Lady Montague glared at him.

"But not dull enough to start random brawls in the street!" he hastened to add.

Lady Montague turned back to Benvolio. "Have you seen my son?"

"Not since he was threatening to drown himself in a pond earlier today," Benvolio replied.

"What?" Lady Montague cried out, horrified. "Did you stop him?"

"Well…no," Benvolio admitted.

Lady Montague twitched. "And why not?"

"He still seemed like he was going to be stuck in the planning stage for awhile," Benvolio explained. "He seemed concerned about leaving an ugly corpse behind."

"Did you at least talk to him?" Lord Montague asked.

"I would have except that he looked troubled," Benvolio replied.

"That's why you should have spoken to him!" Lady Montague shouted.

Benvolio shrugged. "Had I done that then I probably would have been drawn into a long, boring discussion about his troubles and I don't actually care."

"We've noticed that Romeo has been pretty upset lately," Lord Montague confided. "And we've resorted to all sorts of methods, including following him around ourselves and paying other people to follow him around, to try and figure out what's wrong."

"Have you tried, oh I don't know, _asking_ him?" Benvolio inquired.

"We have not," Lady Montague replied.

"See! I'm not the only one who doesn't want to!" Benvolio exclaimed, pleased. "And hey, there's Romeo now. Why don't you just ask him-"

"We've got to go," Lord Montague said as he and his wife hurried away. "But let us know what you find out!"

Cursing, Benvolio waited for Romeo to arrive. "Hello, Rom-"

"I'm sad because the love of my life called me a creepy stalker who had creepy stalker parents and joined a convent to try to get away from me," Romeo said tragically. "I think I'm going to die."

"Um…don't do that," Benvolio advised. "And hey, you should probably just forget about her unless you want to end up in a tragedy now that she's a nun."

"I can't just forget about her! She's the most beautiful and perfect woman ever and I love her and will love her until the day I die!" Romeo cried out, stamping his feet. "Why does nobody understand me?"

With that, he ran away.

"Probably because you're a whiny sixteen-year-old with no real problems," Benvolio speculated before reluctantly following after his cousin.

* * *

"So, lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" Lord Capulet asked awkwardly.

The prince's cousin, Paris, nodded vaguely. " So, may I please marry your daughter?"

"You _do_ remember that my daughter is thirteen, right?" Lord Capulet replied.

"I am aware of that, yes," Paris assured him. "Though I do appreciate your efforts to make absolutely sure that I know."

"I'm not going to have my daughter getting married at thirteen!" Lord Capulet growled.

"She's almost fourteen," Paris protested. Seeing as how that didn't soften his prospective father-in-law up any, he added, "I can wait until she's fifteen to consummate the marriage."

"You can wait until she's _sixteen_ to marry her," Lord Capulet countered. "If you're still interested then then of course you may marry her but if there's one thing I don't want history to remember me as then it is as a bad father!"

Paris made a face. "But two years is _forever_."

"And a marriage would last even longer than that," Lord Capulet said unsympathetically. "But hey, I'm not heartless. Come to my masquerade tonight. It would probably be for the best if Juliet met you and maybe got to know you before your probable wedding."

"Two years is more than enough time to meet her," Paris grumbled.

"Look, you're the one who doesn't want to wait," Lord Capulet said tetchily.

"I would _love_ to be there!" Paris exclaimed, smiling nervously.

Lord Capulet's eyes widened suddenly. "That reminds me…Peter!"

One of the servants came up to him. "Yes, my lord?"

"The masquerade feast is _tonight_! And I haven't invited _anyone_!" He took out a list of names and handed them off to Peter. "Make sure everyone knows when and where to come, alight?"

Peter nodded. "Of course, my lord."

Lord Capulet and Paris walked away.

Peter stared helplessly at the list in his hand. "I _really_ wish that I could read…"

Fortunately, Benvolio and Romeo came across him then.

"I shall die without her!" Romeo was crying out.

"Then do it already or stop talking about it," Benvolio told him, annoyed. "But seriously, you're sixteen. You'll get over it."

"I will _never_ get over it!" Romeo swore.

"Excuse me, can you read?" Peter asked desperately, hesitantly approaching them.

"Yes, we can," Benvolio assured him. "But we are Montagues and you serve the Capulets."

"Is it weird that we know that?" Romeo wondered.

"With all the times we're suddenly ambushed by anyone who has ever _met_ the Capulets, I don't think so," Benvolio replied.

"I don't even care," Peter said flatly. "I just know I have to invite all these people to that masquerade tonight and I cannot read at all."

"I don't think we have enough time to teach you how to read," Romeo said reluctantly. "Maybe if you had given us a little more notice."

"That's very kind, sir, but I really just need somebody to read these names to me," Peter corrected him.

Romeo frowned. "I would prefer a little more self-sufficiency in the world but I suppose you do not have much time."

Benvolio took the list and began reading off of it.

"What was that last name?" Romeo asked him.

"Sorry, Romeo, no repeats. I already said it," Benvolio insisted.

"But you just mumbled it," Peter protested. "I don't know who I'm supposed to deliver it to."

"Then you should have been listening, too," Benvolio said stubbornly.

Romeo reached for the list. Benvolio tried to keep it from him but eventually Romeo managed to get his hands on it.

"Rosaline," Romeo said dreamily.

"Why are you inviting nuns to your party?" Benvolio wondered. "And don't even start, Romeo."

"Start what?" Romeo asked innocently. "Say, is it alright if we come? Since we helped you and all."

"Normally I would say 'of course' but you _are_ Montagues and I don't want this feast to turn into a bloodbath so-" Peter started to say.

"Great!" Romeo said enthusiastically. "Good luck with your inviting!"

As the pair walked off, Benvolio sighed. "At least now you'll be able to see that she's not half as attractive as some of the other girls in Verona."

"Are you kidding?" Romeo asked, laughing. "She's a _nun_. That automatically makes her at least twice as beautiful as she was before!"

Benvolio rolled his eyes. "Kinky teenage fantasies…"

* * *

"Nurse, I can't find my daughter," Lady Capulet complained.

"I'm right here, Mother," Juliet said, standing up.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," Lady Capulet said, flustered.

"I should hope not," Juliet said dryly.

"I think she's in here, my lady," the nurse said, entering the room and pointing at Juliet.

"I had figured that out, yes," Lady Capulet informed her. "Thanks anyway."

"No problem," the nurse said cheerfully. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time that I was watching Juliet and my husband came in the room? She must have been three or so. She fell over and my husband smiled at her and said, 'You fall on your face now but when you're older you'll fall on your back for sex, right Juliet?' And the little tyke said 'Yes!'"

"Shut up!" Juliet cried out, horrified.

Equally disturbed, Lady Capulet said, "Nurse, we've really got to talk about who you let hang around my daughter!"

"But he's just my husband," the nurse said, not understanding why there would be a problem.

"No one who would say that to a three-year-old should be allowed anywhere _near_ a three-year-old," Lady Capulet insisted.

The nurse shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Lady Capulet cleared her throat and tried to get back to the matter at hand. "Juliet, darling, have you thought about marriage?"

"No," Juliet said, completely unconcerned.

Lady Capulet waited for her to go on but she gave no indication that she was going to do so.

"You really should," Lady Capulet said pointedly. "I was fourteen when I gave birth to you."

"And Father still complains that he felt like a child molester and wouldn't dream of marrying me off until I was at least sixteen," Juliet pointed out.

"He'll let you get married if you really want to," Lady Capulet said enticingly.

"But I _don't_ want to," Juliet explained. "So you see there's really no need to do that."

"But the prince's own cousin, Paris, wants to marry you! He won't possibly wait two years to do so!" Lady Capulet said excitedly.

"I'll meet him," Juliet promised reluctantly. "But if he is balding or graying then the deal is off."

Lady Capulet began to dance around the room. "I'll start planning the wedding!"

* * *

"Do you think Rosaline will marry me if I ask her at the masquerade?" Romeo wondered.

"Probably not seeing as how she's a nun now," Mercutio replied. "But if she says yes then invite me to the wedding."

"I shall invite the whole world!" Romeo declared boldly.

"Even the _Capulets_?" Mercutio asked, surprised.

"Oh, what do I care for the Capulets?" Romeo scoffed.

"It's not that I'm not glad to see you, Mercutio, but how did you know that we were going to crash the masquerade?" Benvolio inquired.

Mercutio shook his head. "I did not even know that there was going to be one."

"But…" Benvolio gestured at the mask his friend sported.

"It's nighttime," Mercutio explained. "I'm thinking of taking up vigilantism. Don't judge me."

Benvolio sighed and glanced Romeo's way. "It's not likely as long as Romeo is around just _begging_ to be judged."

"Has anyone thought about how we're actually going to get in here?" Romeo asked. "I mean, we are Montague."

"I'm not," Mercutio pointed out.

"You're close enough," Romeo assured him.

"No one would think that Montague would be so stupid as to show up to a Capulet event so they'll probably not even check," Benvolio speculated. "After all, it's very embarrassing to not be invited somewhere and showing up anyway just draws attention to that fact."

That fear assuaged, Romeo continued with, "I shall dance with no one except Rosaline."

"So no dancing then?" Mercutio asked, half-laughing.

"I love her," Romeo said, his face heating up.

"In bed," Mercutio finished.

Romeo glared at him. "My love for her burns white hot-"

"In bed," Mercutio interrupted.

"I cannot begin to describe the passion that I feel for her," Romeo valiantly continued.

"In bed," Mercutio replied.

"Stop that!" Romeo demanded angrily.

"What's his problem?" Mercutio wondered.

"Listen, this is serious!" Romeo insisted earnestly. "I had a dream last night that going was a bad idea."

"You didn't even know about this last night," Benvolio pointed out.

"That's what's so spooky!" Romeo exclaimed.

"Well I could tell you that it was a bad idea because I'm not stupid," Benvolio told him. "Actually…I'm a Montague on my way to a Capulet feast where Romeo will likely expose our identities trying to woo a nun. I take that back."

"Well, _I_ had a dream last night, too," Mercutio declared loudly.

"I don't think we really need to hear about-" Benvolio started to say.

"It was about Mab, queen of the fairy people," Mercutio cut in. "She visits people in dreams. She's kind of like a succubus sometimes, actually…"

He ranted on for a few minutes and then Romeo abruptly smacked him in the face.

"The hell?" Mercutio demanded.

"I had to shut you up, it was downright indecent," Romeo said unapologetically.

"Did you think about maybe asking me to stop?" Mercutio asked, rubbing the spot where Romeo had hit him.

"That seems like it might be rude," Romeo said, shrugging.

"Yeah? Well so was **hitting me in the face**," Mercutio said, glaring daggers at him. He sighed. "Ah, well. I wasn't really talking about anything anyway."

"You rarely do," Benvolio commented. "Now let's hurry up so we can actually get there and I can stop psyching myself out here."

"I have a feeling that what happens tonight will get us all killed somehow," Romeo said ominously.

"Huh. I wonder what that could mean," Mercutio said curiously.

"I don't know," Benvolio said sarcastically. "Maybe it means that Lord Capulet will discover us and then brutally murder us for crashing his party. He could even call it trespassing and thus self-defense and so get away with it! But even if he doesn't get away with it, who cares because we're still dead!"

"Look, Romeo, I get that you're upset because nuns are nuns and you're a creepy stalker or whatever but you are seriously trying to drag me down and I just don't appreciate it one bit," Mercutio explained. "So either lighten up or just go home and let me crash this masquerade in peace."

Romeo thought about it. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Do you want the list in alphabetic order or by how long it would take to die?" Benvolio responded.

* * *

"Rosaline! Why won't you marry me?" Romeo asked pleadingly.

"Because I'm a _nun_, Romeo," Rosaline said patiently.

"Why?"

"Because you wouldn't stop following me around," she replied.

"Why?"

"I don't know, maybe you should ask yourself that question," Rosaline suggested.

"Why?"

"Because I don't have the answer," she said, begin to tap her foot.

"Why?"

"Because I am not a mind reader and that is not normal behavior and you never told me and if you had told me then you should know the answer!" Rosaline exploded.

"Wh-"

"And if you say 'why' one more time then I swear I will punch you," Rosaline threatened. "By God, can't I even attend a Capulet party without being harassed by you? Do I have to stay in the convent at all times?"

"I…" Whatever Romeo had been about to say was lost as he caught sight of Juliet from across the room. "She…is the most beautiful girl in the entire world!"

"I'm not sure if I should be relieved or insulted," Rosaline mused. "And does this mean I can leave the nunnery? That poor girl…"

"Hey, you," Romeo grabbed a passing servant. "Who is that woman?"

The servant shrugged. "I don't know."

"Then you're fired," Lord Capulet said as he walked by. "That, my good sir, is my wonderful daughter Juliet."

"Juliet…" Romeo breathed, transfixed.

"I know what you're thinking and forget it," Lord Capulet advised. "She's far too young for that sort of thing and she'll be married – and not to you – when she is anyway."

"Uh-huh," Romeo said, wandering over to talk to her. "I am going to marry that girl before she runs off and joins a convent like Rosaline did."

Tybalt froze and sniffed the air. "I smell a Montague! Servant, go get my rapier!"

"But…I don't know who you are or where it is," the servant protested.

"Then you're fired," Tybalt snapped. "But first, go get my sword. Or at least _a_ sword."

"Not if I'm fired," the servant declared, turning to go.

Tybalt was about to summon another servant when Lord Capulet walked up to him. "What are you doing, asking for a sword in the middle of a masquerade! Someone might get hurt!"

"That's rather the idea," Tybalt said pointedly. "Do you know that there's a Montague in here?"

"Actually, there are two and they brought one of their friends who won't stop talking about sex and superheroes or something," Lord Capulet corrected him. "Why do you ask?"

Tybalt gaped at him. "You …you _know_?"

"It's my damn feast so I should hope that I know what's going on here!" Lord Capulet exclaimed, a little affronted.

"I didn't mean it like that," Tybalt swore. "I just…did you invite them?"

"No, I did not," Lord Capulet denied, shaking his head.

"Then let me kill him!" Tybalt pleaded.

"No, Tybalt. Death at a party always kills the mood," Lord Capulet told him. "Plus, people like Romeo and if we kill him then they might not like us."

"Romeo?" Tybalt's eyes widened. "As in the Montague heir? That bastard wants to marry Juliet!"

"A lot of people want to marry Juliet," Lord Capulet said indifferently. "And none of them are going to until she's sixteen. You worry too much."

"I'm going to find some pretext to kill him once the masquerade is over," Tybalt threatened.

Lord Capulet shrugged. "Not my problem."

Juliet turned around to see Romeo staring at her.

"Hello," Romeo said brightly.

She jumped. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to compose this whole saint metaphor thing and then decide that that would take too long and I really want to kiss you," Romeo informed her.

"Well maybe I really want to hear your saint metaphor," Juliet retorted.

"I swear that this isn't a line but you're so gorgeous that you must be a saint and I am a poor pilgrim who wishes to erase his sins with your lips," Romeo told her.

Juliet scrunched up her nose. "I don't know, that sounds a bit like idolatry."

"Look, can I kiss you or not?" Romeo asked impatiently. "You're the one who wanted to hear it."

"I see no reason not to kiss you strange man that I've just met under weird circumstances and whom I know nothing about," Juliet said, shrugging. She moved to kiss him.

Romeo stopped her. "Actually, could you just sort of stand perfectly still and let me kiss you?"

Juliet frowned. "You're growing creepier by the minute."

"It's more like a statue that way," Romeo tried to explain.

"You'd better not be a necrop-" Juliet started to say before Romeo kissed her. He seemed to forget that he didn't want her to move almost immediately.

When he pulled back, he smiled at her. "There, my sin is all gone."

Juliet abruptly decided that she'd like to kiss him again. "Well…if kissing me took your sin away and gave it to me then it must have also given you my sin and I should get it back."

Romeo made a face. "That doesn't even make any sense. We wouldn't just _trade sins_. One of us would have had to take it from the other. And even if we did trade sins, my are probably a lot worse than yours so why do you need the sins of two people? And wouldn't kissing again just trade our sins back? And-"

"Oh just shut up and kiss me," Juliet interrupted before kissing him again.

"Okay, now that they are _making out in the middle of the masquerade_ can we _please_ kill him?" Tybalt begged.

"No," Lord Capulet replied. "But ask me again if they're still talking in twenty minutes."

Tybalt waited two minutes before opening his mouth again.

"I have a watch, too, you know," Lord Capulet reminded him.

Tybalt slumped.

"Juliet," the nurse said, coming up to her. "You're only thirteen so it's past your bedtime."

Juliet crossed her arms and pouted. "If I'm old enough to get married then I'm old enough to stay up past ten o'clock!"

"But you're not old enough to get married, dear," the nurse pointed out. "And you haven't so much as _looked_ at Paris all night."

"That's because I don't know what he looks like," Juliet explained.

"That would explain it," Romeo remarked.

The nurse recognized his voice. "Goodness, Romeo Montague, what are you doing here?"

"That is a very good question," Romeo said.

Juliet's hands flew to her mouth, horrified. "You're a Montague?"

"Huh?" Romeo looked back at her. "Oh, and you're a Capulet. Right. I should be upset about this. It will probably end badly. But you're so beautiful."

"Are you married?" Juliet asked desperately. "I'll just _die_ if you're married!"

"I know the feeling," Romeo said warmly. "And no, I'm not. Not…_yet_."

Lord Capulet came up to him then. "Okay, seriously, get the hell out of my house."

Review Please!


	2. Act 2

Act 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Romeo & Juliet.

"Romeo, I can see how you might be confused…Actually, wait, no I can't. But still, you live _that_ way," Benvolio said, pointing. "And the way that you're going is actually to around the back of Capulet's house."

"I know, that's why I'm going there," Romeo told him. "I must go see my lady love again."

"You talked to her for two minutes," Benvolio said tiredly. "Dear Lord, it's Rosaline all over again."

"Who?" Romeo asked distractedly. "Look, I don't expect you to understand but I'm an adult and so I am fully capable of making my own choices."

"You still have acne," Benvolio said flatly.

"Do not draw attention to my single imperfection," Romeo said, quickly raising a hand to cover his single pimple.

"Though if you stopped touching it it would probably go away faster," Benvolio advised. "Look, I can't in good conscience let you hang around here to get killed. Lord Capulet was pretty clear about what Tybalt would do when he threw us out."

Before Romeo could answer, Mercutio spoke up, "I just had an idea!"

"What's that?" Romeo asked him.

"How about we all go to the most dangerous part of town and stop crime?" Mercutio asked. "That sounds suitably heroic. And I could see if I could save some fair maidens…or approximations of them…And think how grateful they'll be!"

"That sounds like a _terrible_ idea," Benvolio told him. "Don't do it."

"I have no choice," Mercutio said mournfully.

"What are you even talking about?" Benvolio demanded. "Look, you just came up with the idea now! Of course you have a choice!"

"It's my duty as a vigilante," Mercutio said solemnly. He bowed to them. "I take my leave of you."

Benvolio looked torn between stopping him and stopping Romeo, both of whom would probably end up getting themselves killed. Eventually, he turned back to Romeo. "Don't get yourself killed, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Romeo assured him. "I make no promises about staying unmarried, though."

Benvolio groaned and then took off after Mercutio.

"I either owe him a very big favor or he really does need Benvolio's help," Romeo remarked as he headed over to the back of the house, hoping to see a glimpse of Juliet. He could try throwing pebbles at her window or something except that he wasn't entirely sure where that was. Was it a decent plant to throw them at the windows one at a time and then hide until Juliet came to investigate? "Either way, I shall be fine. I absolutely know what I am doing."

Juliet, meanwhile, was inside with her mother.

"Oh, did you see that man leave?" Lady Capulet asked dreamily. "I think I'm in love."

"Mother!" Juliet said reproachfully. "You are already married."

"Yes, yes, and he is the son of my dear friend Gianna," Lady Capulet agreed. "But did you _see_ that physique?"

Juliet started. "But…you cannot mean _Romeo_? You cannot love him Mother, for _I_ love him."

Lady Capulet laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised if a great many people fell in love with him at first sight. But anyway, how was Paris?"

"Who?" Juliet asked blankly.

Lady Capulet sighed. "Oh, let's not fight tonight. Do try and remember who your future fiancé is by morning, will you, dear?"

"I'll try," Juliet said dutifully. She waited until her mother left and then went to go stand outside on the balcony.

Romeo, who had been busily gathering rocks to throw that he didn't think would break the windows, glanced up at the sound and promptly dropped his rocks. After a moment, he remembered to straighten up and stared transfixed at her beauty. "Oh, my beautiful, beautiful Juliet. I should talk to her." He raised his hand and was about to cry out when he stopped and frowned. "No, wait, my mother told me that randomly appearing where I am not expected and have no other reason to be but the presence of my love is often considered 'stalking.' I don't quite know what she means by that but she is a woman and perhaps she knows what she's talking about. I will have to think on this…"

"Maybe thinking aloud will help me feel like I'm not crazy," Juliet mused. "Of course, if anyone heard me then they would _think_ that I was crazy but no one's here. I think. I hope. So…Romeo. My mother might have a point about everyone and his physique. That was a _really_ tight outfit that he was wearing. I wonder if he does it on purpose? Probably not. But why doe he have to be a Montague? I mean, I doubt my father would want me with anyone but the prince's own cousin but on the other hand, I might have been able to talk him around if he weren't the son of Father's most hated enemy."

"She's talking about me!" Romeo exclaimed excitedly.

"I wonder if his changing his name would help," Juliet continued. "Then I wouldn't have to be Juliet Montague and probably kill both of my parents from shock. Or maybe I could change my name. We could both change our names just to be fair! Is it too soon to be thinking about marriage? I am only thirteen and I didn't want to earlier but since everyone keeps talking about it anyway…why not?"

"Why not indeed?" Romeo asked loudly, deciding to make his presence known. "If there were only a friar here then I would marry you right now!"

"Romeo!" Juliet exclaimed, jumping. She looked around nervously. "Sh! No one's going to be asleep at this hour. The party's not even over." She wondered vaguely if she should be alarmed that he was hiding in the bushes and decided against it. "How did you even find me?"

"I have a love-detector," Romeo explained. "It led me here."

"Well…that's not the _strangest_ thing that I've ever heard," Juliet said uncertainly. "You really shouldn't be here, though. My cousin would kill you. Violently. And he can literally smell Montagues."

"I'll be fine," Romeo said breezily. "Your love for me will make me immune from death!"

"I…don't actually think that that's how it works," Juliet told him. "I mean, you'd still die if he were to stab you right through the heart or cut off your head or poison you or tear out your heart or stab straight through you or-"

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Romeo exclaimed, wincing. "But still, _fine_. And would your cousin really kill me, the man you love, right in front of you?"

"I guarantee that he would find literally nothing wrong with that," Juliet confirmed. "He's a bit on the violent side."

"So…do _you_ love me enough to become immune from death?" Romeo asked hopefully.

"Of course not," Juliet said automatically. "And neither do you. That's just impossible."

"I do not want to hear about such 'impossibilities'," Romeo told her. "Just tell me if you love me or not."

"I do love you," Juliet admitted. "It's just…I met this girl named Rosaline tonight and she told me all about how you've been obsessed with her for an entire year and now suddenly your heart is mine?"

"I literally have no idea who you're talking about," Romeo told her.

"And see, I think that's the problem," Juliet told him. "What if we get together and marry and then you meet someone else and I become Rosaline and everyone rejects us and hates us and maybe even tries to kill us all for nothing?"

"I could never do that to you!" Romeo exclaimed. "And I certainly never did that to anyone else."

"But you _did_," Juliet said, frustrated. She shook her head. "Look, never mind. It's just that how do you _know_ that you'll always love me? We met half an hour ago."

"Well how do _you_ know that _you'll_ always love _me_?" Romeo challenged. "You also met me half an hour ago."

"That is true," Juliet conceded. "But I am a woman and so therefore have a bit stronger of an incentive to not stray for fear of being thrown out on the streets and forced to beg, sell myself, or starve."

"You're kind of killing the mood here," Romeo complained.

"I'm just saying," Juliet said unapologetically. "And would you really want to marry a girl so easy as to say 'yes' thirty minutes after meeting someone?"

"I would want to marry a girl who said 'yes' the minute I asked her," Romeo said sincerely.

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, maybe _you_ would but I-"

"And since I'm the one asking, what's the problem?" Romeo inquired.

"Well…no problem, I guess," Juliet said. The two stood there awkwardly for a second. "So, I guess we love each other."

"I guess we do," Romeo said agreeably.

They lapsed into silence again.

"Juliet!" the nurse called out.

"Oh, thank God!" Juliet exclaimed. "I mean, um, wait right here and I'll be right back."

She was gone for a moment and then reappeared.

"Actually, this will probably take awhile so you might as well just leave. It wouldn't do to have you fall asleep on Capulet lands and get murdered by my cousin," Juliet told him.

"Tell me when I may see you again!" Romeo implored.

Juliet hesitated. "Seeing as how I am thirteen and female, I do not have the freedom of movement that you do. But tell you what, if you _really_ want to marry me then I'll send someone to you at nine o'clock tomorrow and you can assure her that you mean what you said. Then you two can work out the details of the wedding and I'll show up there."

"Okay," Romeo agreed. "Goodbye, my love."

"Goodbye," Juliet said back before turning around and going back into her room, shutting the door behind her.

Romeo started to walk away before he stopped and winced. "We…really should have settled on a place, shouldn't we have? Ah, well. Her emissary is the one who has to find _me_."

* * *

"I really wish that somebody was here so that I could amaze them with just how much I know about all of these plants," Friar Lawrence said, picking several plants and putting them in his basket. "Of course, it's entirely possible that they will not be impressed but rather disturbed by how much truly useless knowledge that I've accumulated. _God_, I wish there was something better to do in Verona besides hitting each other and memorizing Bibles."

"Oh, you'd like something to do?" Romeo inquired, walking up to him.

Friar Lawrence jumped. "I'm not crazy."

"I never said that you were," Romeo said confused.

"I know I was talking to myself but, seriously, not crazy," Friar Lawrence insisted.

"I believe you," Romeo assured him.

"Do you really? Because-" Friar Lawrence started to say.

"You know, I thought I did but if you keep asking me then I might have to reconsider," Romeo said pointedly.

Friar Lawrence cleared his throat. "So…what was that you were saying about offering me something to do? And Romeo, you look like you haven't slept all night!"

"I didn't," Romeo admitted. "I could not go home last night. If I did then I would have run the risk that my parents would have found out my plans and tried to talk me out of it. Or worse…_ground _me. How can I go over and pursue my love if I'm grounded?"

Friar Lawrence narrowed his eyes. "Oh, _please_ tell me that you didn't have sex with Rosaline! Not only are you two not married and does she rather despise you but she's a _nun_!"

"I don't even know who this Rosaline _is_, let alone want to have sex with her!" Romeo assured him, making a face. "Besides, even if I did and she was the second-most beautiful maiden that I had ever seen then I still could not do that to my dear Juliet."

"Oh, not again," the friar groaned. "You are aware, of course, that you swore just yesterday that you would never love another but Rosaline."

"I've never heard of this Rosaline," Romeo repeated. "And yesterday I swore that I loved Juliet. Besides, if she's really a nun then should you really be encouraging me?"

"Well…I'm not, exactly, I just think that you're unbelievably fickle," the friar replied. "Still, this is good news for Rosaline."

"Stop talking about that random girl and agree to marry Juliet and I today!" Romeo ordered.

"Juliet, Juliet…that names sounds familiar…" Friar Lawrence murmured, rubbing his forehead. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"It, um, doesn't?" Romeo asked hopefully.

"No, it definitely does," Friar Lawrence insisted. He snapped his finger. "That's it! Romeo, please tell me that you haven't fallen in love with Juliet Capulet, the one woman who is perhaps even _more_ off-limits to you than a nun."

"I would love to except that it is totally her," Romeo admitted.

"Why do you do these things?" Friar Lawrence demanded. "And why drag me into it?"

"You're the only person I thought might marry us," Romeo said. "And we have to be married today."

"Why?" the friar demanded. "She's thirteen! You're sixteen! You've known her for only a few hours! Why does it have to be today?"

Romeo shrugged. "I have no idea but she said today and I am not about to argue now that I finally got someone to agree to marry me. I don't actually remember ever trying to get someone to marry me unsuccessfully but I feel like I've been rejected in that area far too many times."

"Yes, you have," Friar Lawrence agreed. "And the only reason your parents haven't put a stop to that is because they never thought that anyone would _actually_ say yes. And a Capulet, at that!"

"Well this is different than all those other times that may or may not have happened because _Juliet_ loves me," Romeo insisted.

"Well, I'm sure she loves you as much as you love her," the friar said skeptically.

"Ordinarily I would be pleased by this except your tone implies that that is not a good thing," Romeo noted. "What is not good about that?"

"You mean aside from the fact that your two families are tearing apart this city?" the friar asked sarcastically.

Romeo nodded. "Yes, besides that."

"Well, you've never _really_ been in love. Rosaline knew that you just had a crush on her and that's one of the reasons she would never give you the time of day. And then you started stalking her and it all just went downhill," Friar Lawrence answered.

"Isn't there anything that could convince you to marry us?" Romeo pleaded.

"I can't think of anything," the friar said honestly.

"Maybe…maybe it could end the feud," Romeo said hopefully.

Friar Lawrence stilled. "Come again?"

"Yeah," Romeo said excitedly, nodding as he thought about it. "Marriages are used for alliances all the time. Lord Capulet wants to ally with the prince's family by marrying Juliet to his cousin Paris – the prince's, not Lord Capulet's cousin. If we were to get married then that might make everyone stop fighting."

"Or it might piss Lord Capulet off because it ruins his chances to ally with the prince," the friar retorted.

"It could unite them in anger against us," Romeo countered. "Which, while that would be bad for us, would still end in the feud."

"They could end up blaming each other," Friar Lawrence suggested.

"Oh come on!" Romeo said, annoyed.

The friar sighed. "Oh, alright. But I must warn you, if anybody asks me about this later, I've never met either of you!"

"I feel good about this," Romeo declared. "I'm sure that my mother will forgive me for not getting to attend the wedding when she gets to hold her first grandchild…"

* * *

"Do you know what the most annoying thing about Romeo is?" Benvolio asked.

"You change the answer to that every time we play this game so I'm not even going to guess," Mercutio sniffed.

Benvolio rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll tell you. The most annoying thing about him is that he's always around when you don't want him to be but you can never find him when you need to."

"That does sound pretty annoying," Mercutio conceded. "_Do_ you need to know where he is?"

"Well, he wasn't home last night so there's a good chance that the Capulets killed him," Benvolio replied. "But on the other hand, Tybalt sent a message challenging Romeo to a duel for making out with Juliet at the party last night and it seems a bit strange to do both."

"Yes but he's a Capulet and, more to the point, _Tybalt_ so he might have decided to do things nice and proper and send the messenger and then came across Romeo and killed him," Mercutio suggested.

Benvolio shook his head, unwilling to believe it. "Surely there must be some other explanation."

Mercutio laughs. "Of course there is. He was totally having sex with Rosaline last night!"

"Rosaline _did _mention plans to leave the nunnery," Benvolio said thoughtfully.

"Hey, do you think that Romeo will be able to kill Tybalt?" Mercutio wondered.

"Of course I do!" Benvolio defended him. "Since he _is_ my cousin and whatnot. The big question is why you doubt him!"

"I doubt him because Tybalt kill at least three people a day – sometimes all at once – and Romeo doesn't know how to hold a sword the right way. Or not to pick it up by the pointy end," Mercutio explained.

"That was at _least _two weeks ago!" Benvolio exclaimed.

"And Tybalt…well, he is a master swordsman, perfectly proper and composed in style. He is like an Adonis. Watching him fight…it's like _art_ or something, I swear. Even when he's covered in the blood of his victims it just glistens in the sunlight and somehow adds to his allure," Mercutio mused.

Benvolio backed up a bit. "First of all, that sounds really creepy. Secondly, you sound like you might have feelings for him."

Mercutio tilted his head to the side. "Feelings, huh? Now there's a thought."

"I really didn't mean to give you any such thoughts about a Capulet!" Benvolio exclaimed.

"No thoughts on him being a man?" Mercutio asked curiously.

"He's not a _man_, he's a Capulet," Benvolio declared.

"On further reflection I think that 'feelings' might be a bit strong of a term. He's also a vain, affected fashionmonger. But he's _very_ pretty," Mercutio continued.

"Please stop talking," Benvolio begged.

"Hey guys, I'm here!" Romeo said cheerfully, practically skipping over to them.

"Romeo, thank God!" Benvolio cried out. He paused and made a face.

Mercutio laughed again. "Never thought you'd have to say that, did you?"

Benvolio merely shook his head.

"Where were you, anyway?" Mercutio asked. "Off having sex with Rosaline?"

"Why does everyone think that?" Romeo wondered. "And seriously, who is she?"

"Are you kidding me?" Benvolio demanded. "All that whining over her and you don't even remember her? On second thought, that might be for the best."

"There is no way he forgot her this quickly!" Mercutio insisted. "Why, just yesterday he was all 'Rosaline is more beautiful than Helen! She is more beautiful than Aphrodite! Than Venus! Than Tybalt!'"

"What was that last one?" Romeo asked, puzzled.

"Don't even ask," Benvolio said wearily. "I need new friends."

"You ditched us last night," Mercutio complained.

"Oh, I did _not_!" Romeo countered. "You're the one who took off with Benvolio to go fight crime or whatever. Did you find any, by the way?"

Mercutio grinned and nodded.

Benvolio hid his face in his hands.

"Well, then. Sounds like you two had an interesting night," Romeo remarked, amused.

"You never made it home last night so you must have had sex with _someone_," Mercutio reasoned. "Even if that someone was not Rosaline after all. And you probably proposed a few times as well. So who was it?"

"Hello, world, is Romeo anywhere near here?" the nurse inquired, Peter trailing right behind her.

"Oh, that's him over there," Peter said, spotting him.

"Did you seriously just go around asking that everywhere you went?" Romeo asked, surprised.

The nurse glared at him. "You never set a place!"

"_Juliet_ never set a place and then she went in so I couldn't ask her," Romeo argued.

"And besides, it worked, didn't it?" the nurse asked rhetorically.

"You had sex with _Juliet Capulet_, last night?" Mercutio asked, stunned. "Isn't she a little…young?"

"And a little Capulet?" Benvolio asked.

"You seemed much more anti-feud yesterday," Romeo remarked.

"I don't want them dead, I just think getting intimately involved with them is a stupid plan," Benvolio clarified.

"And no, no I did not sleep with her," Romeo replied. "But I do intend to marry her."

"Isn't she practically engaged to my cousin? That's what he says at any rate," Mercutio said, glancing at Romeo uncertainly.

"Since when is Paris, cousin to the prince, your cousin?" Romeo asked, stunned.

"Since _always_!" Mercutio exclaimed. "Honestly…"

"You don't act like near-royalty," Benvolio noted.

"As near-royalty, I can do what I want," Mercutio declared boldly.

"About this wedding," the nurse said pointedly.

"You know, you looked kind of like a prostitute," Mercutio accused. "You have got to wear less make-up."

"How was that in any way helpful?" Benvolio demanded.

Mercutio blinked. "Oh, well, I guess it wasn't."

"Then why did you say it?" Benvolio pressed.

Mercutio shrugged. "I was just feeling it, I guess."

Valiantly, the nurse attempted to ignore him. "If you're already married or planning on faking a marriage to get sex or ruin Juliet and hurt Capulet then I will rip out your heart and feed it to a tiger."

"Where would you even get a tiger?" Mercutio wondered.

"Is that really the most important thing to be worried about here?" Benvolio demanded.

"I'll feed it to _something_," the nurse swore.

"I would never do that," Romeo said firmly. "And wouldn't you have heard if I was already married?"

"Not if it was another secret one like this," the nurse pointed out.

Romeo blinked. "Wait, since when was this going to be a _secret_ marriage? And why? I want all of Verona to know of my love for the lovely Lady Juliet."

"Trust me, it's better this way," Benvolio assured him, not even wanting to touch that issue. If he didn't get it now then he never would.

"Will you two come to my wedding?" Romeo asked.

"I hate weddings," Mercutio declared. "I always skip out on them and crash the reception but since you won't be _having_ any then no can do."

"I would, I really would, except that I really should tell your parents about this," Benvolio said slowly.

Romeo's eyes widened in alarm.

"I mean, I won't but only because I don't want to deal with you moping again and spending hours plotting your suicide," Benvolio assured him. "But I still feel like I _should_ and that anything that happens from this point on as a result of my failure to do this is at least partially my fault."

"You're too hard on yourself," Mercutio said sarcastically.

"So…was that it?" the nurse asked pointedly. "Did you not have a plan or something? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised with the way you didn't give me a place."

Romeo ignored that. "Look, just have Juliet meet me at Friar Lawrence's cell for confessional and we'll get married then."

"_And_ you can ask forgiveness for doing this behind everyone's back and marrying a thirteen-year-old in the first place!" Mercutio exclaimed cheerfully.

"I'll leave a ladder outside of Juliet's window tonight so you can sneak in and have sex on your honeymoon," the nurse told him.

Benvolio stared at her. "You should probably be fired."

The nurse shrugged. "I don't know about that but you don't have the power to get rid of me."

* * *

"I know that we never actually agreed on a place but waiting _three hours_ for some word really seems like overkill," Juliet complained, pacing back and forth in the Capulet orchard. "Oh, I knew that I should have just gone myself!"

"I'm here," the nurse wheezed, making her way towards her. She collapsed onto a large rock once she was within hearing distance.

Juliet began hopping up and down excitedly. "Did you find him? What did he say? Is he still as pretty as I remember?"

"Too tired and sore and out of breath to tell you what happened," the nurse remarked. "Just too much of everything, really."

"Oh, don't be silly!" Juliet exclaimed. "If you have the strength – and breath – to complain then you can tell me what happened."

"Well, I sort of prioritize complaining a bit higher than playing messenger," the nurse admitted. "Plus I didn't actually want to do this."

"What took you so long anyway?" Juliet demanded.

"Romeo dragged me to his house to introduce me to his parents and we had lunch," the nurse explained. "He was very excited."

"What…? He…_what_?" Juliet couldn't believe it. "That sounds like a disaster."

"It was a bit awkward since Mercutio told them that I was a prostitute but at least they did not know that I served you and so it all worked out. Also, Romeo doesn't seem to know that this must be a secret so he told Mercutio and his cousin Benvolio all about this," the nurse informed her.

Juliet tensed. "Oh God, really? What happened?"

"They are remarkably indifferent," the nurse reported.

"What did he _say_?" Juliet demanded.

"Romeo is waiting for you at Friar Lawrence's cell in order to marry you while you pretend to be getting confession," the nurse revealed. "Mercutio suggested that you actually get confession, too."

"Good, a place this time!" Juliet said happily.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go meet Romeo's servant in the alley and get that ladder," the nurse said, struggling to her feet.

"I feel like there's a story here," Juliet said, trying to decide if she should ask or not.

"Well, I figured that if Romeo was the one who wanted to climb into your bedroom window tonight for sex then he should at least bring his own damn ladder and it would be so much more convenient – and quieter tonight – to have it already set up," the nurse reasoned.

Juliet was startled. "Wait, _sex_?"

"You are getting married," the nurse pointed out.

Juliet looked down self-consciously. "Yes, but I had never really expected…I don't know anything _about_ sex!"

"There's a good chance that he doesn't, either," the nurse replied. "And strangely, I can live with that."

* * *

"This is the best day of my life!" Romeo said ecstatically.

The friar eyed him critically. "Well, it certainly doesn't look like it. Couldn't you have washed up or changed or something? This is your wedding and you're wearing last night's clothes still."

"Not quite," Romeo argued. "I took off the mask."

Friar Lawrence rolled his eyes. "Oh, well if you took off the _mask_ then that's a different story altogether and that is perfectly appropriate wedding attire."

"God wouldn't care," Romeo said boldly.

"Well, Verona does," the friar retorted. "So, I'm curious…Not to psych someone out on his wedding day or anything but what do you suppose the odds are that this will end in death? And do you think it will end in a suicide, double suicide, murder suicide, murder, or double murder? And do you think anyone else might die?"

Romeo grinned at him, an odd response to the question. "I don't know but I don't even care. For just one moment like this, I would gladly suffer an eternity of anguish!"

"Well I wouldn't because it's stupid and overly dramatic and quite teenagerish," the friar said, snorting. "You realize that your memory of joy, while you might always have that, isn't going to stop anything that happens in the future and you should _really_ be careful."

"I'll be careful when I'm dead," Romeo said breezily.

"No, see, then it's too late," the friar tried to explain.

"You worry too much," Romeo said disinterestedly.

The friar sighed. "Just…just try to put your obsessive love tendencies to rest. They'll only get you in trouble whether they lead you to some other maid or not."

"The burning flame of my youth will not be denied!" Romeo declared.

"It's like I'm talking to a brick wall," the friar complained. "Except I've met walls that were more receptive to my advice."

Juliet arrived then in a wedding gown.

"Finally! Someone who has a sense of propriety!" the friar rejoiced. He paused. "But how did you manage to get away in that?"

"My father has no idea what a wedding gown looks like and I told my mother and that my father gave the okay," Juliet said, smirking.

"Juliet, my love!" Romeo exclaimed, moving forward and taking her in his arms. "Say something poetic about how much you love me."

"I don't want to," Juliet replied.

"But…but…" Romeo looked crestfallen.

Juliet sighed. "Um…those who can so easily describe their worth are beggars and my love is far too great to be so easily described. Or something. Can we just get married now?"

"No, this is definitely not a bad idea…" the friar murmured to himself.

"What was that?" Romeo asked.

Friar Lawrence cleared his throat. "I said, 'First the Confession.'"

"Really?" Juliet asked skeptically. "Because that really didn't sound like what you were saying at all."

That's when they discovered that the friar was selectively deaf.

Review Please!


	3. Act 3

Act 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Romeo & Juliet.

Note: To the guest who didn't understand the point of parodying something that is already a parody...well, I don't accept that Romeo and Juliet was a parody. It might be a satire, sure, but not an all-out parody. And we've had parodies of satires before. Think Scream and Scary Movie 1. It is also, despite what you seem to think, NOT an established fact that Romeo and Juliet is a satire. It is entirely possible that it is and you may like it more and think it makes more sense as a satire but it's just one interpretation. And even if you're right and it IS a satire, I still don't see any reason why I can't parody it.

"We should go inside," Benvolio suggested.

"Why?" Mercutio asked blankly.

"No real reason," Benvolio replied. "It's just…this _heat_."

"I feel fine," Mercutio said, brushing him off. "You can go inside if you're really that temperature-dependent."

"No, that wouldn't do any good," Benvolio told him.

Mercutio rolled his eyes. "If going inside wouldn't do any good then why are you suggesting it?"

"I meant that me going inside by myself wouldn't be any good," Benvolio tried to explain.

"Because you feel that you would look less pathetic if we both went inside?" Mercutio asked. "Well, tough luck because I'm happy out here."

"All I know is that whenever it gets hot out – like it is right now – then a fight usually breaks out and I don't think it would be a good idea for us to get into a fight since just yesterday the prince threatened to kill anyone caught fighting," Benvolio pointed out.

"You are such a coward," Mercutio accused.

"If by 'coward' you mean 'not particularly looking forward to dying a slow painful death over something stupid' then I suppose so," Benvolio said agreeably. "Although I suppose it's not fair to blame the poor weather. Whenever a Montague and a Capulet meet – or their assorted friends and servants occasionally – then a fight usually breaks out."

"I don't see why you have to go around lecturing _me_," Mercutio huffed, crossing his arms. "You get angry just as easily as the rest of us do!"

"Well, granted," Benvolio admitted. "But I think the important thing to remember is that when _I_ get angry, it usually doesn't lead to people _dying_."

"I'm just saying, I'm feeling judged right now and I don't like it," Mercutio complained. "It's not very Christian."

"Neither is blood feuds," Benvolio countered smoothly.

"Actually, if we go back in the Bible I think you'll find that-" Mercutio started to say and then stopped short when he spotted Tybalt approaching him. "Success!"

Benvolio groaned. "I should really go…" He turned to go but Mercutio caught hold of his wrist.

"No fair!" Mercutio protested. "If you leave then I won't outnumber him two-to-one."

"Because heaven forbid that you actually have a fair fight," Benvolio said sarcastically.

"You probably won't even do anything anyway so it's not like that will make much of a difference," Mercutio said, sulking. "I just want to _look_ like I outnumber him. Besides, Tybalt's kind of crazy. He might literally throw a knife in your back as you're walking away and I might just be too horrified by that completely unexpected turn of events to be able to do anything to try and stop it."

Benvolio sighed and gestured for Mercutio to release him. He really didn't know Tybalt very well but his reputation preceded him and for all he knew Tybalt _might_ do that. Mercutio certainly would. He was struck, as he often was, by the overwhelming feeling that his friends didn't deserve him.

Tybalt actually didn't look all that hostile as he walked up to them. "Could I speak to one of you?"

"Why can't you speak to both of us?" Benvolio inquired.

Tybalt looked a little embarrassed. "Well…I'd really rather only one other soul heard this."

"Do you have a preference as to which one?" Benvolio asked.

Tybalt shook his head. "Actually, no. You're one of the hated Montague but Mercutio is much more likely to distract me with a duel and I'm kind of busy right now."

"Too 'busy' for a duel?" Mercutio mocked. "I think we all know what _that_ means, don't we Benvolio?"

"Do we?" Benvolio asked mildly. "I actually don't believe that I do. I'd ask you to elaborate but I'm sure that that would be a _spectacularly_ bad idea."

"Did you just ask me to elaborate?" Mercutio asked, cupping a hand to his ear. "Well, if you insist. Tybalt has apparently turned into a coward and so is going around and looking for excuses to _avoid_ fighting instead of excu-I mean, perfectly valid reasons _to_ fight."

"I'm not a coward," Tybalt said, his eye starting to twitch.

"Oh, it's easy to claim to not be a coward," Mercutio said scathingly. "Benvolio here did it earlier."

"That's because I'm _not_ a coward," Benvolio said tiredly.

Mercutio nodded, satisfied. "See?"

"You really need to reexamine your definition of 'cowardice'," Tybalt told him. "Because, contrary to what you seem to believe, it does not mean someone that is not ready and willing to fight at any time, day or night, just because someone else is bored or hot or whatever."

"You could be right," Mercutio said slowly.

"Really?" Tybalt asked, surprised that the Montague-supporting Mercutio might concede that he was right about something.

"_Really_?" Benvolio asked, stunned that Mercutio might actually change his mind about something.

"He could be," Mercutio repeated. "But he's not. I find it _very interesting_ that you're so eager to narrowly define cowardice right when you fall into it yourself."

"It's not that odd," Tybalt argued. "Yes, I'm only arguing with you because you called me a coward but I would have believed that you were defining the word wrong even if you hadn't been."

"But would you have _said_ it yesterday?" Mercutio challenged.

Tybalt hesitated but was spared from answering when Romeo practically floated onto the scene.

"Hey, how was the wedding?" Mercutio asked him.

"I am the happiest man ever," Romeo said happily. "I can't wait until tonight. I'm not entirely sure how to do a wedding night but I'm sure that you've got a lot of helpful tips."

"I do indeed," Mercutio assured him.

"And I'll be on hand to tell you which of those hints to actually listen to," Benvolio promised him.

"I swear, it's like you don't trust me or something," Mercutio said, pouting.

"Well spotted," Benvolio said dryly.

"Romeo!" Tybalt growled, through waiting for Romeo to notice him and drawing attention to himself. "You are a genuine villain!"

"Only from the perspective of those that don't like me," Romeo said serenely. "And real life is generally far more complicated than that. Although I do grant that since you do hate me yourself that this is a perfectly valid viewpoint."

"Is Romeo…_making sense_?" Benvolio asked, awed and yet slightly horrified. He turned nervous eyes to the heavens.

"I don't know about 'sense' but I do know that he's being very _dull_," Mercutio complained. "Come on, Romeo, stab him!"

"Not if I stab him first," Tybalt cried, taking out his sword and holding it in front of him menacingly.

"I will not fight you, Tybalt," Romeo said quietly.

"Why _not_?" Tybalt whined. "I'm bored and it's too damn hot!"

"But not too hot to fight, apparently," Benvolio said, giving Mercutio a knowing look.

"As long as we haven't passed out from the heat then it's not too hot to fight," Mercutio claimed.

Tybalt waited but Romeo just continued to watch him patiently. Eventually, Tybalt leaned forward and poked Romeo with his sword. "Poke."

"I'll kill him!" Mercutio cried, enraged.

"Let's let Romeo handle this," Benvolio suggested, trying to hold him back.

"Your efforts to provoke me are futile, dear Tybalt," Romeo informed him.

Mercutio abruptly stopped struggling and, after a moment, Benvolio released him. "_Dear_ Tybalt? What? Just…_what_? We never should have left him alone with that Capulet girl."

" 'We'?" Benvolio repeated incredulously. "You were the one who-"

"Explain yourself," Tybalt demanded.

Romeo nodded. "Gladly. I will not kill you, Tybalt – I _cannot_ kill you – because I love you."

That stopped everyone in their tracks.

After Tybalt stopped choking, he cleared his throat. "I…don't know what to say. I suppose that…you…_love_? It's only polite to say that I'm flattered but I'm really not because you're a Montague-"

"And a man," Mercutio added.

Tybalt rolled his eyes. "He's not a man, he's a Montague."

Mercutio jerked his head towards Benvolio disgustedly. "You sound like _him_."

"Them's fighting words," Tybalt warned him.

"But what about Juliet? You were _just_ making out with her last night!" Tybalt cried out. "In front of everyone! I can't say that I disapprove of you letting that poor, thirteen-year-old girl go but this just proves what a knave you are!"

"I am _not_ a knave!" Romeo cried out, offended. "And I even married your cousin so how can you accuse me of having done wrong by her?"

Tybalt's eyes bulged. "Well, if what you say is true then that's how I can say it! Fortunately, you apparently haven't consummated it so there is still time to save her from you!" He lunged at Romeo again, who didn't move, and stabbed him in the shoulder.

"Romeo, you idiot!" Mercutio shouted. "Do something!"

"I can't," Romeo protested. "We're kinsmen now and I already said that I wouldn't."

This time Tybalt stabbed him in the leg.

"Oh, for the love of-!" Mercutio cried out, annoyed. "You know what? _Fine_. If you won't fight him and save your own life then I will because I am a good friend!"

He drew his sword and blocked Tybalt's next stab (which would have gone through Romeo's neck).

"Mercutio! What are you doing?" Romeo demanded angrily. "Stop causing trouble?"

"Stop causing trouble?" Mercutio demanded, stunned. "I'm not causing trouble, you ungrateful little shit! I'm saving your life!"

"Yes, well, my life was in no need of saving," Romeo claimed.

"I'm starting to think that you weren't actually paying attention to what was happening," Mercutio fumed.

Romeo saw his chance and jumped between the pair to try and stop them fighting. He stopped Mercutio from being able to stab Tybalt but Tybalt jammed his sword underneath Romeo's arm and went straight through Mercutio.

"Ah!" Mercutio cried, falling to his knees.

"Way to go, Romeo," Tybalt said, annoyed.

"M-me?" Romeo couldn't believe it. "You're the one who stabbed him!"

"But I would have been able to see where I was stabbing and thus not killed him if you hadn't gotten in the way," Tybalt countered. "So really, if you think about this, all of this is your fault."

"Only if you're a crazy person," Benvolio spoke up. "Listen, Mercutio, do you think you're dying?"

"I don't, no, but the blood I appear to be _gushing_ kind of disagrees!" Mercutio shouted, pissed. "Seriously, you all are terrible and I hate you all. Your stupid feud got me killed."

"Well, you were actually the one who wouldn't stay out of it," Romeo pointed out.

"A plague on both your houses!" Mercutio cried out.

"A plague? Really? You're trying to bring back the plague?" Benvolio was decided unimpressed. "I think that's a little extreme, don't you?"

"_Nothing_ is extreme right now! I'm dying!" Mercutio said, waving his arms around wildly.

"That's no reason to lose a sense of perspective," Tybalt admonished.

"I really don't think that _I'm_ the one who is losing their sense of perspective," Mercutio argued. "But then, what do I know? If you seek me out tomorrow, you'll find me a grave man indeed."

"No offense, Mercutio, but you kind of suck at dying," Romeo told him bluntly.

"Fuck off, Romeo," Mercutio said as the life ebbed out of him.

Tybalt wiped a tear from his eye.

"Are you…crying?" Benvolio couldn't believe it.

"Sorry, I just…talk about some truly inspired last words," Tybalt explained, closing his eyes to compose himself. "I shall have to remember them for when my times comes."

"Oh, it will come sooner than you think," Romeo predicted darkly. "Open your eyes and fight me, you coward!"

"Wait, why am I still a coward?" Tybalt wondered. "I was willing to fight Mercutio and everything."

"Yes, but you killed him," Romeo replied.

"Still, that doesn't strike me as _cowardice_. I didn't wait until his back was turned or anything," Tybalt objected.

"Sword? Fight? Now?" Romeo reminded him.

Tybalt nodded. "Of course." He wiped the blood off of his sword and then raised it to face Romeo.

"I should warn you that if you end up killing or otherwise incapacitating Romeo, too, then I'm not going to be your next victim," Benvolio said flatly. "This whole thing is _extremely_ stupid and I told Mercutio that we should have gone inside and now I almost _have_ to find new friends and why do we even carry swords around anyway? It seems like nothing good would come from it and it leads to stupid things like this all the time."

Romeo, despite his injuries, was fighting far fiercer than Tybalt was as he was the one with the recently dead friend and Tybalt didn't even have to worry about Juliet and Romeo having had sex. Unfortunately for Tybalt, his relative lack of determination proved fatal and, coughing, he collapsed.

"At least…at least since you're the only one…left from the fight…they'll _have_ to kill you…and Juliet will be safe," Tybalt reasoned. "Also…fuck off, Romeo."

Romeo's eyes widened in horror. "Damn it! I forgot about that law…"

"Not surprising since it only happened yesterday," Benvolio said sympathetically. "Wait, no, I take that back. The fact that it happened just yesterday makes the fact that you forgot so stupid."

"What am I supposed to do?" Romeo asked, paling rapidly and beginning to shake.

"_Another_ fight?" one of the random citizens asked, outraged.

"And we've got bodies this time, too!" another one complained.

"Someone go get the prince!" someone requested.

Benvolio grasped Romeo by the shoulders. "Romeo, listen to me. I know you're probably worried about Juliet but right now you can't afford to be. You've got to _run_. They'll kill you if you don't and that won't help anyone."

"But…where will I go?" Romeo asked, lost.

Benvolio shook his head. "I don't know and I don't care. Send me a message once you're safe and I'll let you know what the prince has decided."

Romeo nodded. "Okay I…thank you, Benvolio. And I'm sorry."

Benvolio sighed. "I'm sorry, too, but we can't change the past. Let's just try and see if we can't prevent some more tragedy, shall we?"

Romeo fled.

Benvolio stood still, staring down at Mercutio and Tybalt's bodies, until the prince came running. He was followed closely by the parents of Romeo and Juliet.

"What the hell?" the prince demanded after he took in the scene. "As you're the only person here, I'm inclined to believe that this is all your fault, Benvolio. You have two minutes to convince me otherwise."

"It was really hot so I suggested to Mercutio that we go inside so a fight wouldn't break out but he wouldn't listen," Benvolio said rapidly. "Tybalt came looking for Romeo because he was upset about Romeo and Juliet kissing last night at that party. Romeo showed up but he refused to fight Tybalt out of respect for Juliet. Tybalt kept stabbing him to try and goad him into a fight and finally Mercutio stepped in to save Romeo. Romeo tried to stop the fight but that just gave Tybalt an opening to kill Mercutio. Romeo avenged Mercutio and then fled."

"It sounds like this was mostly Tybalt's fault," the prince mused, rubbing his chin. "And of course, he's dead so I can't very well punish _him_."

"All lies!" Lady Capulet accused. "My beloved nephew is _dead_ and now the perpetrator has fled justice? Why would he flee if he's not guilty?"

"Because of the law that said that you can't fight the feud," Benvolio tried to explain.

"And how can we trust your word?" Lady Capulet continued. "Frankly, if it weren't for the fact that none of these witnesses said that you were involved I'd be accusing you, too."

"Why don't we ask some of these witnesses what happened?" Lady Montague suggested.

"There's no time for that!" Lady Capulet cried out. "My nephew is _dead_."

"And that's really not going to change anytime soon," Lord Montague pointed out.

"Okay, look, this whole thing is still really stupid and now it's cost me my cousin's life," the prince declared. "He was kind of strange but he did do wonders for the crime rate and I'm not looking forward to dealing with a crime resurgence. I'm not feeling very kindly towards Mercutio's murderer right now and even if I was, it's hard to have Romeo killed since he's not here. In fact, since he left why don't we just say that we exiled him and leave it at that?"

Grumbling, everyone agreed.

"But wait," Benvolio said confused. "Is he _actually _exiled or…?"

* * *

"Strangely, my plan to stare at the clock until time speeds up does not seem to be working," Juliet mused. "Of course, my plan to speed up time by changing the time on the clocks and refusing to look at the clocks didn't work either. And those three naps I took only got me through so many hours. When is he going to get here already?"

"Um…Juliet," the nurse said nervously, entering Juliet's room.

"Hello," Juliet greeted her, grateful for the distraction. "So, did Romeo have any specifics about when he was planning on getting here or…?"

"I'm afraid that Romeo probably isn't coming," the nurse said apologetically.

"What?" Juliet cried out, her eye twitching. "But he _has_ to! We have to consummate our marriage or else my father can have it annulled and I'd have to marry that icky Paris."

"What's wrong with Paris?" the nurse asked her.

Julie rolled her eyes. "He's really old."

"Men usually are older than their wives," the nurse said sagely. "It's because men have to get established and women can only have babies for so long."

"But he's so old and I'm so young and it's probably to make sure that I'm a virgin. You know what they say about men who are so desperate to have sex with a virgin," Juliet said knowingly.

"I know a lot of things that people say so why don't you tell me what you were talking about to avoid any miscommunication?" the nurse suggested. "Miscommunication kills, you know."

"There's a rumor that if you have a…_disease_ that having sex with a virgin will cure you," Juliet explained. "Personally, as a virgin, I would rather not risk getting that disease myself if it doesn't work."

"Where do you even hear such things, Juliet?" the nurse asked, slightly scandalized.

"You're husband," Juliet replied matter-of-factly.

The nurse winced. "Okay, perhaps your mother had a point…"

"But why can't Romeo come?" Juliet demanded, not willing to be deterred for long. "Is he dead? Because if he's dead then I swear that I will kill _myself_!"

The nurse frowned. "Yes, this is definitely a healthy relationship."

"Nurse!" Juliet exclaimed.

"Alright, alright," the nurse grumbled. "Romeos' been exiled…sort of."

" 'Sort of' exiled?" Juliet repeated skeptically. "What does that even mean? Is he exiled or isn't he?"

"We're not really sure," the nurse prevaricated.

"Explain!" Juliet ordered.

"Well…Tybalt was looking for Romeo because of last night and Romeo wouldn't fight him. Tybalt attacked him anyway and so Mercutio defended him but Romeo accidentally allowed Tybalt to kill Mercutio when he was trying to break up the fight. Then Romeo killed Tybalt in revenge and ran away to avoid being killed for fighting," the nurse said obligingly. "Of course, that's all according to Benvolio Montague so maybe that's not what really happened. At any rate, the prince said that since Romeo wasn't there, they might as well say that he's exiled and leave it at that."

"So is he exiled or not?" Juliet asked uncertainly.

"That's what I would like to know," the nurse said pointedly.

"Oh, Tybalt…I can't believe he's dead," Juliet said sadly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears.

"Well, he is and your new husband has done it," the nurse said darkly.

"He was provoked," Juliet countered.

"Juliet! Tybalt was your _cousin_ and he was just trying to protect you!" the nurse exclaimed.

"Well, I don't need any protection and I know my cousin well enough to understand that he would have been provoking Romeo even if you hadn't specifically told me that he was attacking an unarmed man," Juliet said reasonably.

"I hate Romeo," the nurse declared.

"Nurse! You can't hate him! He's my husband," Juliet said angrily.

"I'm really failing to see where the part about me not being able to hate him comes in," the nurse replied.

Juliet sighed. "If only it were so easy to not blame him myself…This may seem strange and I feel like I may be losing perspective but I'll tell you right now that Romeo not being allowed to be in Verona feels worse than _ten thousand_ slain Tybalts."

The nurse stared at her and slowly nodded. "You're right, you are losing perspective."

"I'm going to die a virgin," Juliet complained.

The nurse jolted. "What's this about dying?"

"Oh, nothing," Juliet assured her. "It's just that since I'm married I cannot have sex with anyone but my husband and he's gone now. I may never even learn of his death and will have to assume he is alive forever."

"Your father would not mind you staying a virgin at thirteen," the nurse remarked. "But, still, you are a married woman and there's a chance that I can find Romeo before he leaves the city. Not a big one but maybe. And who knows? He may be hor-I mean _in love_ enough to come here for a wedding night before going on the run."

"We can only hope," Juliet said, sighing despondently as she threw herself on her bed.

* * *

"My life sucks," Romeo complained, hiding in Friar Lawrence's cell.

"You really should have thought of the consequences before you went around murdering people," the friar said sanctimoniously.

"B-but he killed Mercutio! It was practically self-defense!" Romeo claimed.

"From what I heard, it _would_ have been self-defense if you would have fought him when he initially attacked you," the friar retorted. "And Mercutio's death was mostly your fault anyway."

"At least I didn't _stab_ him," Romeo sniffed.

"How long are you going to be waiting here, anyway?" the friar demanded. "Remember, kid, that I told you that should things go south – and they most certainly are – then I don't know you. If you're found hiding here then it will make it much more difficult, though not impossible mind you, to convince people of that."

"The fact that you baptized me might also add to the difficulty," Romeo noted.

The friar made a face. "Yeah, well, I baptize a _lot_ of people if you know what I mean."

"Of course I know what you mean," Romeo said, puzzled. "Why wouldn't I?"

The friar just sighed. "So you're just here until nightfall, right? And then you'll go off and have sex with Juliet in the house of the family that wants your blood and then you'll go away forever?"

Romeo nodded. "That is the plan. Do you happen to know what my sentence is? I didn't stick around long enough to hear it and I'd rather not wait a few weeks for Benvolio to tell me."

"You're lucky, actually," the friar told him. "You _might_ be banished."

Romeo's eyebrows rose. "Only 'might'? You're not sure?"

"No one's sure except possibly the prince," the friar explained. "And he refuses to clarify."

Romeo sighed. "This sucks."

"We've already been over the part about how you shouldn't have killed that guy," the friar said tiredly. "Especially seeing as how he's Juliet's cousin!"

"I don't care about _that_," Romeo said dismissively. "I just think I'd rather die than live with Juliet and now, because there is no possible way that in the future I could send for her or my relatives could smuggle her out with me or she could run away with me tonight, I am forced to do so. I hate the world."

"You do realize that you don't actually _have_ to live if you don't want to," the friar pointed out.

Romeo turned his complete, shocked attention to the friar. "Are you seriously suggesting killing myself? What kind of religious man are you?"

"I'm not _suggesting_ it," the friar said innocently. "I'm just making sure that you're aware of your options. And for the record, I'm the kind of religious man who is going to be in _so _much trouble if my part in this comes out."

Romeo suddenly fell to the floor.

Startled, the friar bent down next to him. "Romeo? Romeo, are you okay?"

"No," Romeo's muffled voice replied. "I'm angsty and I hate everything."

Abruptly, the friar stood up again. "He's fine."

"Juliet must think I'm a murderer," Romeo complained, his voice still muffled.

The friar wondered briefly if he could breathe like that but the fact that he was still talking meant that he probably could.

"You did kill her cousin," the friar reminded him.

"I'm going to stab myself," Romeo said, having somehow gotten ahold of a dagger and holding it high above his head.

The friar snatched the dagger from him. "Give me that! No, you're not going to kill yourself in my rooms."

"Then what I am going to do?" Romeo demanded.

The friar shrugged. "Oh, I don't care. Go have your little honeymoon tonight but don't get caught and then go to Mantua until we find out if the prince even really banished you at all and, if he did, changes his mind. I'm sure that your parents and other kinsmen will pester him nonstop until he agrees so it won't be long."

"Okay," Romeo agreed. "But if that doesn't work out then I'm going to stab myself."

* * *

"So I'm thinking Wednesday for the wedding," Paris said as he and Juliet's parents walked along.

"I don't care what day of the week you marry her," Lord Capulet said distractedly. "I mean, the wedding is ages away anyway."

"Actually, Wednesday is in two days," Lady Capulet pointed out.

"He doesn't mean two days from now," Lord Capulet said impatiently. "He means a Wednesday two years in the future like we discussed."

"Actually, I was indeed talking about two days from now," Paris corrected.

Lord Capulet abruptly stopped walking and narrowed his eyes at Paris. "Are you sure? Because I could have _sworn_ that we discussed how that wasn't going to happen."

Paris was frowning now. "But your wife said-"

"You cannot assume that _I_ agree to things unless _I_ say so," Lord Capulet cut him off.

"But, dear husband, surely you must see that with this escalation we must strengthen our political ties," Lady Capulet protested.

"And you _did_ say that you were ready to move forward with the marriage," Paris pointed out.

"I did and I am," Lord Capulet assured them. "I just meant that I was ready to formally announce Juliet's betrothal to you even though the wedding cannot possibly take place until a week after Juliet's sixteenth birthday at the very earliest. We could make the announcement on a Wednesday…no, apparently today's Monday so that's too soon. Thursday. We'll tell people on Thursday."

"Why one week after her sixteenth birthday?" Paris demanded. "You keep pushing the date back and that's not fair."

"I don't _have_ to let you marry her at all," Lord Capulet said pointedly.

"You won't get my family's influence if you don't," Paris threatened.

"My daughter's welfare means more to me than that," Lord Capulet said firmly. "Like I said, history will _not_ remember me as a bad parent."

"I just think that you might be taking all of this a little too seriously," Paris told him.

"And **I** just think that I'm starting to seriously reconsider whether I want you as the father of my grandchildren," Lord Capulet said flatly.

"We don't have to decide any of this right now," Lady Capulet said quickly.

"And we can't have it any sooner because she has to be at least sixteen when she gets married and to have it any sooner than a week means that she'd have to deal with celebrating her birthday and her anniversary together for the rest of her life and who wants that? In fact, maybe we should push the wedding back…" Lord Capulet mused.

"N-no, I think that a week after is more than enough time," Paris said hastily.

"But Juliet is so sad about Tybalt's death," Lady Capulet told him. "We need something happy to distract her."

Lord Capulet rolled his eyes. "Right, that's a brilliant plan. And every year on her anniversary and perhaps every time that she thinks of her marriage she'll be reminded of her beloved cousin's murder."

* * *

"Well, that was awesome," Romeo told Juliet as he stood up and shrugged his clothing on. "I really should have tried this whole marriage thing ages ago. Of course, the fact that I wasn't married before wasn't exactly my choice but…well, that's over now. Whatever that was."

"Where are you going?" Juliet asked forlornly. "We've got _hours_ before the sun comes up."

"I have to leave before morning," Romeo said stubbornly. "Or I will be put to death."

"No one ever actually said that," Juliet pointed out.

"Yes but Tybalt was your parents' nephew so let's not risk it," Romeo told her.

"You really don't have to worry," Juliet assured him. "Nurse is the only one who doesn't knock before coming in here. You might never have to leave."

"As tempting as that thought is, I promised that I'd head off to…um…Right. Mantua," Romeo said reluctantly. "But hey, whatever. I'll stay and live under your bed and we can live happily ever after right here in your room."

Faced with this sudden turnaround, the prospect suddenly sounded a lot less intriguing than it had when Juliet had first proposed it.

"Oh, that's so…kind," Juliet said, forcing a smile. "But, you know, you're right. It's just too risky. You've got to go and then when this whole mess is settled you can come back to me. Hopefully there will be less blood."

"I'm pretty sure that that was supposed to happen," Romeo tried to comfort her.

Juliet rolled her eyes. "I meant between our houses with the feud."

Romeo nodded. "Right. That."

The nurse barged in then. "Juliet, your parents are coming. You really should get that disgraceful murdering coward out of here."

"Hey!" Romeo objected. "I am _not_ a coward!"

"Just go," Juliet pleaded, tears filling her eyes. "Please. I couldn't stand to watch you die."

"I couldn't stand to die with you watching," Romeo returned, tears brimming in his own eyes.

He kissed her one last time and then jumped out the window.

"You know, we did leave the ladder there for that purpose," the nurse called down to him.

"I've spent way too many nights crime-fighting with Mercutio to need that," Romeo replied. "We'll see each other again, Juliet, don't worry, even if it takes fifty years."

"Personally, I'd rather not wait so long," Juliet requested. "And it's just so eerie how you look all pale and death-like. Almost like you're a vampire or something."

"Well, you look the same to me," Romeo told her. "Maybe it's just because we're sad."

"I think it's probably the light," Juliet disagreed.

"Or maybe we're vampires," Romeo suggested. "I did like that idea."

"We're probably not," Juliet told him.

Romeo sighed. "Fine, kill my dream. Later." With that, he turned and casually strolled away, waving to a few of the people out that early. They all paused to stare at him but didn't do anything aside from that.

Despite the door still being open from when the nurse had barged in, Lady Capulet knocked on the door.

"Mother, it's not even dawn yet," Juliet told her, frantically trying to wipe her tears away. "If I had even gone to bed last night, I wouldn't be awake right now. What's the big idea?"

"I just want to say that I understand that you're sad that Tybalt's dead and want to see Romeo dead," Lady Capulet told her gently.

Juliet blinked. "Huh? Oh, right. Tybalt's dead. If it makes you feel better, I told Romeo that he shouldn't have done that and he agreed. And then he threatened to stab himself again."

"When were you talking to Romeo?" Lady Capulet asked confused.

"Let's not dwell on that, shall we?" Juliet suggested brightly.

"You _do_ still want to see him dead though, right?" Lady Capulet pressed.

"I do certainly want to see him," Juliet replied.

Lady Capulet shrugged. "Close enough. By the way, how do you feel about marrying Paris on Wednesday?"

"I would rather die," Juliet declared boldly.

Capulet stood at the doorway of her room. "That's a little dramatic, dear, but don't worry. You're _not_ going to be marrying him until the week after your sixteenth birthday."

"I'm not going to marry him then either," Juliet insisted. "I'm sorry if this upsets you but I just can't do it."

"You have two years to think it over and come around to the idea and I promise you that if we find a compelling reason besides age for you not to marry him or if you just never warm up to it then you don't have to marry him," Capulet vowed. "But, and I'm sorry, with the recent situation we have to move forward with this engagement."

"I feel like even that is too much," Juliet said unhappily.

"The only reason I could think of that this would be a problem is if you were to break my heart by being already married at thirteen and never told me," Capulet said, distressed at the very thought. "But I can't imagine that you would do that to me. Would you?"

"I…" Juliet winced and looked away. "No, I wouldn't."

Lord Capulet smiled and hugged her. "It's going to be alright, Juliet."

"If you say so," Juliet said absently.

"Now let's let you get back to sleep," Lady Capulet suggested and she and her husband took their leave.

The minute they were gone, Juliet turned to the nurse. "What am I supposed to do? I'm already married! Technically, there is nothing illegal about being engaged to another man – I think – and I know that Romeo would understand but it still doesn't feel right."

"I think that you should just marry Paris," the nurse advised. "He's really rich and related to the prince and he has a much more secure future to offer you than Romeo. Plus, well, he won't break your parents' hearts like Romeo will and like he did."

"But I'm _already married_," Juliet protested.

"No one knows that but Romeo who is exiled, the friar who won't admit it, and the two of us," the nurse pointed out. "Except, I guess, anyone Romeo happened to tell but the friar will deny it so if we do too then nobody will believe it."

"I'll know," Juliet said quietly. "And so will God."

The nurse shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you really have no way out of this engagement unless you actually want to try telling your parents the truth."

"I think my dad might cry," Juliet said, shaking her head. "I'll go see if Father Lawrence can help. If not, well, there's always suicide."

"That there is," the nurse agreed. She cleared her throat. "I mean, um, don't do that. I still need a job."

Review Please!


	4. Act 4

Act 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Romeo and Juliet.

"Good news!" Paris said cheerfully as he barged into the friar's room.

Since the woman – girl, really – that Paris wanted to marry was already secretly married to the half-fugitive Romeo, the friar rather doubted that.

"Oh?" he asked politely.

Paris nodded. "Oh, yes. Juliet and I are getting married!"

"Y-you are?" the friar asked uncomfortably. "But what about, um, Lord Capulet's insistence on his daughter not being married until she's sixteen?"

"Well, he's still on about that," Paris admitted. "And I hear that he's threatened to emasculate anyone who would dare allow her to marry someone before then."

Coughing, the friar crossed his legs.

"I know, I know. The thought freaks me out, too, and I'm not even entirely sure that I was threatened," Paris told him. "But anyway, Juliet and I are at least making progress and our official betrothal will be announced on Thursday." He paused. "Do you think, in light of that, I should stop going around and telling everyone so that the official announcement might actually matter?"

"Do what you will," the friar said indifferently. "I don't care."

"You give such wonderful advice, friar," Paris said warmly. "I think this will be good for Juliet, you know."

"Oh do you?" the friar asked, somewhat hysterically.

Paris appeared not to notice. "I do indeed. Juliet's been so upset since Tybalt died yesterday that it's clear that she's becoming unbalanced. She really does need to get over it and what better way to distract herself from her tragically murdered cousin than by marrying me? Or at least making plans to marry me."

The friar stared at him. "Are you seriously telling me that she's being at all odd by still mourning someone who was killed less than one full day ago?"

"Well, you know how it is," Paris said unrepentantly, snapping his fingers. "Things move quickly in Verona."

"Do you know that some people consider an entire year to be the minimum appropriate time for mourning?" the friar inquired.

Paris shook his head. "Those poor people. Fortunately, we have a much more progressive view of the entire thing."

"There's 'progressive' and then there's 'sociopathic'," the friar said delicately. "Guess which one you've just crossed into."

"Oh, I know this one!" Paris cried out. "It's 'progressive.'"

The friar sighed. "No, actually. But no matter. You're never going to marry her anyway."

"Now, now, my good friar. I know that two years is such a very long time and you must be eager to marry us but do not lose hope!" Paris urged him. "Before you know it, those two years will be gone and I and my sixteen-year-old bride will go on to have a lot of sex that her father can't threaten to kill me violently for even thinking about!"

Juliet entered the room then. "Friar, I need to talk to you about getting out of my engagement to Paris because I'm already married to Romeo…Oh, Paris. I didn't see you there."

"Clearly that's because you're stupid and don't notice anything, my dear," Paris said, trying for loving but ending up sounding much more arrogant.

"Yes, _I'm_ the unobservant one," Juliet said, rolling her eyes.

"So glad you agree! Of course, when you're my wife so when we're married you won't have to notice anybody but me so that's perfectly fine," Paris assured her.

"If I remember my lessons correctly, killing yourself is a greater sin than killing others and Paris is kind of awful so I'm starting to reconsider my last-ditch suicide plan," Juliet announced. "I'm thinking a last-ditch 'murder my faux-fiancé' plan might work better. Thoughts?"

"Ah, look!" Paris cooed. "She's trying to plan things! She's so silly…"

Juliet pulled out a dagger and stalked towards him.

"Not in my room!" the friar cried out desperately.

Juliet looked longingly from the dagger in her hand to Paris' throat. "You live today, Paris, but one day…"

"Yes, my dear, one day we will get to be married and have sex," Paris assured her.

Sensing Juliet's mood take a turn for the homicidal again, Friar Lawrence quickly spoke up. "Paris, you know, I've got to hear Juliet's confession so you really should move along…"

"Okay," Paris said reluctantly. He leaned in for a kiss and Juliet swiped at his lip with the dagger.

"Ow!" Paris winced. "Juliet, love, I know that you're excited about our engagement but you might want to ease up on the passion. I think you bit my lip."

"I actually stabbed you," Juliet corrected.

"I forgive you," Paris said magnanimously. He bowed deeply to her before sauntering off, whistling merrily.

"So you're engaged," the friar said unnecessarily. "Again."

Juliet groaned. "I know! I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"May I recommend _not_ becoming a bigamist by marrying Paris?" the friar requested.

Juliet nodded. "Recommend away. I definitely don't want to do that but the only other person I've talked to who knows about my marriage thinks I should go for it."

The friar was horrified. "Don't!"

"I'm not planning on it," Juliet assured him. "But I need your help. Because my only plan when I came here was suicide but now I'm thinking about murdering Paris as a viable alternative. In fact, even if I weren't already married to Romeo I think I'd still favor that latter option."

"I might, too," the friar admitted. "Your father is _really_ okay with you eventually marrying him?"

"He's okay with my being _engaged_ to him," Juliet corrected. "He hasn't even begun to think about me getting married."

"One usually does follow the other," the friar pointed out.

Juliet shrugged. "He'll get there. I don't really want to encourage him for obvious reasons."

"I'm not really sure that I have any easy answers here," the friar apologized. "I mean, you could always grin and bear it and then in two years you refuse to marry Paris and hope that Romeo's legal troubles are sorted out or run off to live with him."

"The first plan requires putting up with Paris for two years and I genuinely do not know if I'm capable of that," Juliet told him. "And the second…Well, I can't just run off without letting them know I'm married. They would worry terribly and I don't want them to think anything that's not true about my virtue."

"Those are really your only two options," the friar said flatly.

"I don't know about _that_," Juliet argued. "I could always tell them that you married Romeo and I so therefore, despite Romeo's killing of Tybalt, I cannot possibly marry Paris. I can't imagine that my father would have my husband killed."

The friar's eyes widened in panic. "No, no, you can't possibly do that! The feud, remember! It will be awful. Oh! I have another idea! A better one! Much better!"

"What is it?" Juliet asked curiously.

The friar rummaged through his belongings and pulled out a glass vial. "This is the answer to your prayers."

"What is it?" Juliet asked curiously.

"It is called the draught of living death," the friar explained. "It's a powerful sleeping potion that will make you appear dead just as long as no one takes your pulse or checks to see if you're breathing and feels your temperature or checks for rigor mortis."

"So…the solution is to fake my own death?" Juliet asked uncertainly.

"Yes," the friar confirmed. "It has all of the benefits of running off to live with Romeo but without the awkwardness of having your parents worry about you or think badly about you."

"Because they'll think I'm _dead_," Juliet pointed out.

"It's better than them thinking you're some sort of scarlet woman," the friar reasoned. "It's perfect! One drop of the stuff will knock you out for one day so take as many as you think you'll need so that you'll wake up buried. I'll ensure that when you wake up you won't suffocate and die clawing at the lid of your coffin."

"That's so kind…" Juliet said, paling quickly at the thought.

"Probably," the friar continued. "I mean, I know that I must cover my involvement in this at all costs but I don't think that we've come so far that I must start murdering children yet."

"You're so wise," Juliet said admiringly.

"I'll send Romeo a letter telling him to come and get you after you wake up so as long as he doesn't hear the news elsewhere and rush off to find you before you wake up and then rashly kill himself then things should be fine," the friar assured her.

"That sounds like a lot of variables," Juliet said uncertainly.

"True," the friar admitted. "But think of it this way! You'll be 'dead' so none of them will be your responsibility."

"There is that," Juliet agreed, brightening. "And then Romeo and I can live in Mantua and let our parents know what's happening after we have a grandchild."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," the friar said disinterestedly. "Just make sure to let them know that some Mantua priest married you."

* * *

When Juliet returned home, she found her parents preparing for the engagement party.

"Look, dear, I know that you're only trying to help and I _did_ say that I'd leave this all to you," Lord Capulet began.

"Well, if we're in agreement about that then why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?" Lady Capulet asked touchily.

"It's just that all of these invitations that you're about to send out read 'wedding' and not 'engagement party'," Lord Capulet pointed out. "Now, I'm not sure if this is an honest mistake or if you're trying to trick me into having them get married by convincing everyone who shows up that they're there for a wedding and then trying to pressure me into agreeing for fear looking stupid in public but it's not going to work. I will look far stupider in far more public situations than this to protect my dear Juliet."

Lady Capulet sighed theatrically. "Well, it was worth a try."

"It really wasn't," Lord Capulet disagreed. "Why is this so important to you anyway?"

"It's not _important_ to me," Lady Capulet denied. "I just don't see why you want to wait."

"Paris is twice _your_ age, Elena, and if he had started when you suggest Juliet marry then he'd be old enough to be a great-grandfather," Lord Capulet explained. "It just doesn't seem right."

"And letting them both ages two years will make it more right?" Lady Capulet asked incredulously.

"That is what I'm hoping," Lord Capulet agreed. "And if not, well, we'll just have to think of a diplomatic way to call it off unless Juliet is suddenly _really_ in favor of the match."

"I, uh, can't say that I'm _really_ in favor of it," Juliet admitted, announcing her presence. "But I spoke with Paris at Friar Lawrence's right before I gave confession and I think that I am much more…open to the idea than I was before."

"You sure are doing a lot of confessions these days," Lady Capulet noted, surprised. "I'm sort of wondering just what it is that you've gotten up to that makes you in such dire need to cleanse yourself."

"Oh, nothing like that," Juliet lied, forcing a laugh. "It's just that with all these recent deaths, it's finally hit me that I can and probably will die at any time from something really stupid and I would really like to make sure that I don't have any un-confessed sins on my conscience when that happens."

"My poor dear!" Lord Capulet cried out, hugging his daughter. "You really don't have to worry about that. Not even those Montague bastards or your cousin Tybalt would have actually murdered a woman! That's just completely reprehensible behavior. You might have to deal with my death and the deaths of any and all male relatives that you have but you and your mother will be perfectly safe. And the nurse, of course."

"Oh joy," Juliet said sarcastically.

"So I know you said you've sort of come around and you know just how important this is to me and to all of us but I really don't want you to feel like I'm not considering your feelings and am trapping you in this so, one more time, are you _absolutely sure_ that this engagement to Paris is something that you are okay with?" Lord Capulet asked seriously.

Juliet looked him in the eye and almost told him. He might understand. But if he knew that she'd gotten married to the Montague who had killed Tybalt without even letting him know…She honestly thought he might handle that worse than her death. And he wouldn't need to think that she was dead forever. If she just called off the engagement but didn't explain why – now that that was apparently an option – then how would she get back to Romeo? She couldn't let them thinks he was a fallen woman.

"It's fine, Father," Juliet said instead. "In fact, it is exactly what it needs to be."

"I really wish that I felt more reassured by your answer," Lord Capulet said, sighing heavily. "I suppose I'll go tell Paris."

"I'll do it!" Lady Capulet volunteered easily.

"You may come with me," Lord Capulet countered. "But if I let you go on your own then you'll probably bring a friar and the wedding party for this afternoon."

"That's kind of short notice," Lady Capulet replied, not reassuring anyone in the slightest.

* * *

"I am really not happy with this plan to sleep on the floor of your room," the nurse complained. "I mean, it's not like this is the day before your wedding or anything; you're just getting engaged. Why can't you be alone?"

"And I _was_ actually alone on the night before my wedding," Juliet pointed out.

The nurse nodded. "That's right! You were. Of course, that was largely because nobody, including you, actually knew that you were going to get married."

"And you really don't need to defend my virginity since I already slept with my husband Romeo," Juliet added. "Besides, he himself is ages away and he won't be coming back just because tomorrow people are going to find out that I'm going to be engaged."

The nurse gasped. "Juliet! I just thought of something really important!"

"You did?" Juliet asked, wondering what it was and if it might pose a problem to her plans.

"Your impending marriage to the cousin of the ruler of Verona is _big news_ and Romeo really isn't all that far away. He's definitely going to hear about it. How do you think he's going to react to this?" the nurse demanded.

Juliet actually hadn't considered that because she figured that the news of her 'death' would spread just as quickly but, hopefully, slower than the friar's letter explaining the ploy. "I don't know," she admitted. Hopefully he'd understand her position and that it was mostly his fault for becoming a maybe-fugitive by killing her cousin in the first place. "But why do you even care? You don't like him, remember?"

"I may not be a lady like yourself but I'm perfectly capable of remembering who I do or do not like, thank you very much," the nurse said icily.

"Of course you are," Juliet said appeasingly. "I'm sorry if I implied otherwise. I just really don't understand what your sudden concern is for Romeo."

"It's not really concern _for_ him as it is concern _about_ him," the nurse explained. "What if he comes back here telling everyone that he's really your husband!"

"No one would actually believe him," Juliet pointed out. "And the friar would certainly deny it."

"Juliet!" the nurse cried out, half-scandalized. "Are you actually telling me that you plan on denying your husband?"

"Why not?" Juliet asked dryly. "Isn't that what I shall have to do by marrying Paris and remaining silent during the 'and if anyone knows of a reason why these two shall not be wed' part?"

"Well, yes," the nurse conceded. "But you did not seem very open to this idea a few days ago."

Juliet shrugged. "We all do what we must."

"I suppose if he comes back then he might be executed and then you'll be free to marry Paris without having to lie to anyone or do anything to sin against God," the nurse realized. "Oh, I hope he comes back and the prince really did mean it when he said that Romeo was going to be banished!"

"I'm not sure actively rooting for someone's death is very moral behavior," Juliet told her.

The nurse wasn't listening. "Oh, if only I knew how to write then I would absolutely write him a letter begging him to return and tell everyone the truth! Or if I knew someone who I could trust with this information who could write. Maybe _you_ could write a letter!"

"I think it's better to just wash my hands of Romeo completely," Juliet said firmly. "We don't need the complications of Romeo here in Verona just yet. He would mean well, I am certain, but that would not necessarily mean that he wouldn't accidentally screw everything up."

"I suppose we just stick to the plan and pretend that you're not married then," the nurse decided.

"I guess so," Juliet agreed. "But since this will be my last night before I must live that lie, I really would prefer it to be by myself so that I might contemplate how exactly my life became so complicated in only a week."

"If you're sure," the nurse said, trying to sound reluctant but actually sounding eager because she'd rather sleep in her own bed.

"I'm sure," Juliet promised.

"Good night, then," the nurse said cheerfully, waving goodbye. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm sure you will," Juliet said cryptically.

Before she turned to go, the nurse offered her one last piece of advice. "You might not want to go around saying things like that. It's actually kind of ominous."

Juliet smiled thinly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lady Capulet wandered in a few moments later. "Juliet, where is the nurse? I thought she was going to be sleeping in here tonight."

"Well, she's not," Juliet informed her.

"Do I have to fire her?" Lady Capulet asked.

Juliet shook her head. "No, I sent her away."

"Well…" Here Lady Capulet looked deeply uncomfortable. "Do you want me to sleep in here tonight?"

Juliet almost laughed at the expression on her mother's face. "No, I'll be quite alright."

"This is just quite irregular, that's all," Lady Capulet protested.

"It's an engagement, Mother, not a wedding," Juliet said tiredly.

"So your father keeps saying," Lady Capulet muttered petulantly. "Juliet, you do know that I'm not trying to hurt you with any of this, right? It's just that you've already agreed and I see no reason to wait for so long. We're not the only one who can break an engagement, you know, and I just want you to be taken care of."

"I do know that," Juliet said softly. "And I appreciate that. I do. It's just…I can take care of myself, Mother, and I know what I'm doing. More or less."

"Alright then, Juliet, I'm going to trust you," Lady Capulet said, giving her daughter a hug and then heading for the door.

"Tell Father that I love him, okay?" Juliet called after him.

Lady Capulet said bemusedly. "You can tell him that yourself tomorrow."

"Just…please," Juliet begged.

"Very well. Good night, Juliet," Lady Capulet said, shutting the door behind her.

Juliet waited for a very long time, until she almost fell asleep. Finally, she judged that she was either the only one still awake or very near it. She retrieved her vial and held it in her hands as she sat on the edge of the bed, just playing with it.

"To drink or not to drink…" she murmured. "I don't know. I don't actually know what's in here except that I shall lose consciousness and maybe not regain it. The friar seems awfully invested in no one knowing what he did and I suppose that on some level I cannot blame him because I honestly do believe that my father will kill him slowly and painfully if he finds out what happened. As my husband, Romeo might be off-limits but the friar certainly wouldn't be. And for sabotaging his cousin's marriage plans, the prince might even go along with that. Who would be surprised if the silly little girl who is so sad about her cousin's death drank poison the night before she was to be engaged to a man four times her age so soon after Tybalt's death?"

Juliet removed the cap off of the vial and smelled it. "I probably shouldn't have done that. Even doing that might have had it affect me or something. I would hope that a friar would not murder a child and he _did_ say that he didn't feel that that was necessary but being wrong could cost me everything. It's one thing to pretend to be dead and quite another to _actually_ be dead and as long as Romeo is yet amongst the living then I do not wish to die."

Juliet put the cap back on the vial indecisively. "And then there's my family. Do I _really_ want to put them through this? Well, that's a silly question. Of course I don't _want_ this but I've thought over the alternatives and there really aren't many good ones, even if Paris wasn't in the picture and he is. And it won't be forever. Maybe that won't ever forgive me but one day they will know the truth and maybe we'll even be able to stop the feud! There won't be any more dead Tybalt's or Mercutio's in the future if we're successful. And wouldn't that be something? Not every marriage can be so meaningful as Romeo and mine has the potential to be."

Juliet took off the cap again. "But even if the friar can be trusted, what if he doesn't get his message to Romeo on time and Romeo legitimately thinks that I am dead and kills himself? Or – and this is almost worse – _moves on to someone else_? What if he never comes for me? Or what if he comes too late and I wake up alone? I might go mad with fear! Or I might die of lack of water or starve to death. I might even suffocate. It never really seemed necessary to have a way out of the catacombs from the inside because, what, were the dead supposed to be anywhere? And if they were, nobody wanted a zombie invasion. But still, the risk of someone getting shut in – like, say, a girl faking her own death – suddenly strikes me as too great to have done nothing. If I were ever going to see my father again, at least for many years, then I would absolutely suggest this to him."

Tybalt's ghost floated into the room.

Juliet choked out a laugh. "Here I was wondering if I was crazy for even considering this and now I see that I _am_ crazy after all but that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the fact that I'm considering this."

"Don't do this, Juliet," Tybalt requested. "Too many things to go wrong and fucking Romeo is _not_ worth it."

"Look, I know that you're bitter about the fact that Romeo killed you and all – and I'm not happy either – but he is my husband and we consummated it so there's really no getting out of it," Juliet said frankly. "Though I really don't want to."

Tybalt was devastated. "Then my heroic sacrifice was all for naught!"

"That's really not how Benvolio would describe it," Juliet said, looking at him oddly.

"Well of course not!" Tybalt scoffed. "He's Romeo's cousin and a good friend of that ponce Mercutio."

"It's impolite to speak ill of the dead," Juliet admonished him.

"It's fine if you're dead, too," Tybalt assured her. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't save you, Juliet."

"I _really_ wasn't in need of saving," Juliet pointed out. "I'm in need of a little saving now but, well, I'm working on it and I doubt you could do much anyway."

Tybalt wasn't listening. "There's still time to fix my mistake! Goodbye, Juliet, don't get yourself killed."

"Wait, where are you going?" Juliet called as he started to walk away.

"I'm going to go try and kill Romeo," Tybalt replied. "I'm not sure if I can, as a ghost, but I'll have fun trying."

"No! Tybalt! Tybalt, don't! Please! He's my husband!" Juliet cried after him but he didn't stop.

Juliet sighed and then downed the contents of the vial in one gulp.

"Come find me, Romeo…"

* * *

"Is the wedding dress finished yet?" Lady Capulet asked impatiently. "We only have a few more hours! And Nurse, go wake Juliet. She'll need to try this on when it's ready."

"Until the _engagement party_, yes," Lord Capulet agreed. "But there's really no point in getting the wedding dress done now. Juliet is not done growing yet and you'll just have to do another one in two years."

"Are you _really_ going to make me wait two years for this?" Lady Capulet couldn't believe it.

"I'm not sure where you're finding any ambiguity in my actions since I've been pretty clear on the whole 'no marriage for Juliet until she is sixteen' thing since before she was even born," Lord Capulet told her.

Their voices faded away as the nurse went up to Juliet's room. She knocked on the door. "Juliet! It's time to wake up." There was no answer still and so she knocked again. After a few minutes of no response to knocking or calling, the nurse shrugged and opened the door.

She screamed.

Lord and Lady Capulet, knowing that she went to wake their daughter, were quickly by her side.

"Juliet!" Lady Capulet wailed, falling to her knees.

"Are you sure she's dead?" Lord Capulet asked, grabbing ahold of the door to keep himself upright. "She could just be sleeping."

"With this racket?" the nurse asked skeptically. "I kind of doubt it."

"But you checked, right? She's really dead?" Lord Capulet asked desperately.

"I think I'd know if she were dead or not!" the nurse cried out, insulted. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"No, I know. I just…My Juliet…How can this be?" Lord Capulet demanded, his eyes wild. "I blame myself. How did this even happen? Is that…_poison_? It can't be poison. But perfectly healthy thirteen-year-olds don't just _drop dead_!"

"Hey, what's going on?" Paris asked, coming into the room. Friar Lawrence was right behind him.

"I think Juliet's dead," the friar said helpfully.

"What?" Paris exclaimed. "But we were supposed to get married today! I rearranged my whole schedule and everything! This _sucks_."

"It was going to be in two years!" Lord Capulet thundered. "But now it doesn't even matter. Juliet…"

"Well, nothing more to be done here," the friar said briskly. "Let's hurry up and make preparations for the funeral so we can get her into that catacomb as quickly as possible…"

The Capulets, the friar, and Paris departed to go make preparations for the funeral.

The musicians decided to play a mournful tune.

Peter made a face. "Ugh. I hate depressing music. Let's play something happy."

"That girl just _died_," one of the musicians protested.

"And that's very sad," Peter said vaguely. "But, um, a happy tune will ease the sorrow in my heart."

"That's great," the musician replied. "Except you're not paying us so who cares what you think? In fact, since we were booked for the wedding we probably won't be paid at all."

"Well, you shouldn't be paid because your music sucks," Peter snapped.

"We might care about your musical critique if you weren't such an ignoramus," the musician sniffed. "Or, for that matter, if you even knew what the word meant."

"Of course I-!" Peter started to object. But he really didn't and so he hung his head and left.

"Let's keep practicing," the musician suggested. "Maybe we'll get hired for the funeral. But even if we don't, if we keep standing here then maybe someone will take pity on us in a few hours so that we may be served lunch."

"I was really excited about this job. This Capulet girl really has no consideration for anyone else," another one of the musicians complained bitterly.

Review Please!


	5. Act 5

Act 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Romeo and Juliet.

Romeo was rather enjoying his semi-exile, actually. Everyone was very kind and eager to hear all of the gossip about Verona. They didn't seem to take the Montague-Capulet feud very seriously (actually they sort of laughed at it) and even that heartened Romeo because anything that stood between him and his one true love was now striking him as quite silly indeed. And he was sure that, as long as he did his job of staying alive and out of the way in Mantua, everything else would work itself out in time.

"I just had the most _wonderful_ dream, random people of Mantua," Romeo declared loudly. No one really paid any attention to his loud declarations anymore but they also hadn't threatened to kill him to stop it and so he figured that that was as good as an invitation to continue them. "I was dead…Okay, I know that that's actually a bit of a worrying sign and I assure you all that that was _not_ the good part of the dream. Right so, I was dead and my dear Juliet was standing over me and crying very pretty tears for me. Instead of killing herself so that she may join me in death like I had expected and that we agreed would happen if either of us died as part of our marriage vows, Juliet kissed me and brought me back to life! I guess she really didn't want to die, huh? So yeah, totally unexpected and whatnot but on the other hand I think it worked out better for the both of us."

"Romeo!" his servant Balthasar called as he ran up to Romeo.

"Good day," Romeo greeted him merrily. "Have you come for a visit? No, that's a silly question. Of course you have! Why else would you have taken a day-trip here?"

"Your mother would have sent me even had I not wanted to come," Balthasar replied. "She's very upset at your banishment and laments that she will never see you again. Your father has his hands full trying to stop her from dying of despair."

"Dying from despair?" Romeo scoffed, clearly not taking this threat seriously. "Whoever heard of such a thing? And if she wants to see me so badly then she could take a day trip just like you have. I'm really not all that far away. Has the prince settled the matter of whether or not I'm exiled?"

"No, he has not," Balthasar replied. "He's supposed to give a public speech about Mercutio but I'm afraid that he's having difficulty keeping said speech appropriate given who it's about."

Romeo nodded. "I quite understand and I don't envy him his task! It's a good thing I might be exiled, then."

"Your cousin Benvolio feels much the same – about the difficulty of the speech and that you should be there to write one – and so he's planning on appealing to the prince to let you back into the city, if you aren't allowed to be there, on the grounds that you should have to go through the same misery that they do," Balthasar explained.

"There's no rush," Romeo said quickly. He shook his head. "But whatever. There's little point concerning myself with my own life since there is nothing I can do and it's all in fate's hands anyway."

"Just like you had nothing to do with marrying that Capulet girl, huh?" Balthasar asked knowingly. "That's a line you should save for your father so he doesn't kill you himself once he finds out."

"Probably," Romeo said, amused. "But go on, tell me what I'm sure you have to tell me. I can take it; nothing can be wrong in the world if Juliet is well."

There was an awkward silence.

"Balthasar," Romeo said dangerously. "My lovely bride _is_ well, is she not?"

"That depends on what you mean by 'well'," Balthasar prevaricated. "I mean, she's not sick and she's not injured or anything so don't worry about that."

Romeo was unconvinced. "If I shouldn't worry then why won't you just give me a straight answer instead of being all dramatic about it?"

"Well, to begin with I _like_ being all dramatic about it," Balthasar told him. "And as for the rest…Well, I guess she's as well as she can be under the circumstances. I imagine that everyone would be pretty well once they're in heaven."

"H-heaven?" Romeo couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, your wife died this morning. Or possibly last night. She was alone and she was only found this morning," Balthasar clarified. "Lord Capulet is quite insistent that his daughter is going to heaven and Paris supported him in that so that's the prince's position and thus the church's despite the rather obvious fact that she committed suicide."

"Committed suicide?" That sounded even less likely. "Are you _sure_?"

Balthasar shrugged. "She drank poison out of a strange vial that no one in the house recognized. I figure it's either suicide or the girl was kind of an idiot. Although idiocy wouldn't keep you out of heaven, I don't think."

Romeo threw his head back and shouted to the sky, "I defy you, stars!"

Balthasar stared at him. "What does that even mean?"

Romeo jumped like he'd forgotten that the man who had just given him the bad news was there. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking that Juliet and I were star-crossed lovers since our families hate each other so much and now fate has deemed that we must end tragically and cruelly killed Juliet off and so I am in opposition to our fate and just thought that the stars might want to know that."

"You know that it's the middle of the day, right?" Balthasar asked him.

Romeo nodded. "I am well aware of that, yes."

"And while you can rail against fate all you like-" Balthasar began.

"I don't need your permission but it's nice to know you approve," Romeo interrupted.

Balthasar soldiered on. "But I think that maybe _Juliet_ had something to do with-"

"Lies and slander!" Romeo hollered covering his ears with his hands. "It was all fate. And speaking of…Do we know _why_ fate killed Juliet off?"

"I think it might have had something to do with the fact that today Juliet was to be officially betrothed to the prince's cousin, Paris," Balthasar replied. "And of course she was already married to you and couldn't admit it so she killed herself rather than becoming a bigamist. Maybe that will grant her some understanding for her act. And she was so young, too…"

"What?" Romeo's eyes were wide. "But I thought Lord Capulet wouldn't let anyone marry her until she was _sixteen_!"

"Oh, _now_ you remember that?" Balthasar muttered.

Romeo looked confused. "What are you talking about? I never forgot."

"But you…and she was…oh, never mind," Balthasar said, sighing.

"So what happened?" Romeo asked impatiently.

"Well, she wasn't actually going to have to marry him until she was sixteen," Balthasar informed him. "But I guess even being engaged to another man was too much for her."

"I hate the world," Romeo complained.

Balthasar sighed again. "Oh no, not more of this! Although to be fair, losing your wife is a bit more serious than driving a girl into a nunnery. Although that was pretty embarrassing, too."

"Losing the love of my life is not _embarrassing_!" Romeo growled.

Balthasar held up his hands placatingly. "I never said that. Wait, actually, yes I did but I didn't mean it."

"Good," Romeo said, still eyeing him suspiciously.

"So now what?" Balthasar inquired uncertainly.

"I'm sorry but I just cannot tell you my plans," Romeo said apologetically. "However, I will need you to write out this letter that I'm about to dictate. I'd write it myself but I'm far too grief-stricken and, anyway, I want to just be able to do this in free-verse and it's a much quicker process this way."

Balthasar got out his writing supplies and found a flat surface to write on. "Alright. What do you want me to say? And to who?"

"This is to my father so start with that. 'Dear Father,'" Romeo instructed.

Balthasar nodded. "Got it."

"I'm sorry that I never got a chance to say goodbye to you and Mother. Partially, I blame you two because you could have come to see me at any time. I would have come to you when I got back to Verona but I was worried about being caught or stopped and there's no time for that. I married Juliet Capulet a week or so ago and now she's engaged to someone else so she mysteriously and definitely not at her own hand died," Romeo recited. "Therefore, I'm going to go visit her body and then kill myself. I hope that the Capulets won't move my body but, well, they probably will. Don't worry about me and I am _not_ being emo. Why does nobody take me seriously? Love, Romeo." He waited a few moments. "Do you have it?"

"I do," Balthasar confirmed. "Although maybe you should sign it yourself, just to make sure that they know it's really you?"

"Good idea," Romeo replied. He took the quill and scrawled out a signature. "Okay, hire me some horses because I'm going to go home tonight. And by 'home' I mean Verona and not my home specifically. After that, you may go. And don't read that letter!"

"I _wrote_ the letter so I already know what it says," Balthasar protested.

"I don't care, just promise me and then leave," Romeo ordered.

Still, Balthasar hesitated. "And speaking of the letter…I really don't think that I should leave you alone given the contents of said letter. It's either a horribly tasteless joke or you're planning on dying and if I knew about it in advance that would make me a really terrible person. And I'd probably get _fired_, too!"

"I see your priorities are quite in order," Romeo said dryly.

"Hey, it's your life," Balthasar said defensively. "And I need a job."

Romeo thought for a moment. "Well, if you tell them that you didn't read the letter then it should be fine."

Balthasar shrugged. "Well, okay then. Goodbye forever, Romeo. Remember that suicide is the worst sin that you can commit!"

"I will," Romeo said, waving goodbye. "Wait!"

Balthasar turned around. "Yes?"

"You're not happening to being carrying any letters for me from Friar Lawrence, are you?" Romeo asked hopefully. "Maybe assuring me hat Juliet is not actually dead and that this is all a ruse so that she doesn't have to tell her father why she won't marry Paris and I'm actually supposed to go meet her in Verona since she's somehow faked her own death?"

Balthasar shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It is quite imaginative, though, and pretty desperate. I would like to point out, however, that if I had any other letters for you I would have given you the damn letter while I was here like I was supposed to."

Romeo slumped. "Right, of course. Sorry. I just didn't want to believe it. I didn't mean to insult you."

Balthasar cast one last, troubled look at Romeo before going off to get that horse.

Romeo made his way to an apothecary. "Tonight I will be with my sweet Juliet. And dead. I think that I should probably care more about that…"

"Hello," the apothecary worker said cheerfully when Romeo entered. "How may I help you today?"

"You look poor," Romeo said bluntly.

The worker blinked. "I…Is that all you had come to say? That I look poor? That's kind of really rude, actually, and I don't appreciate it."

"No, actually I'm here to buy poison with which to kill myself with," Romeo explained.

"We do have a few things like that," the worker told him. "Unfortunately, giving it to you would be quite illegal because we have too many idiot teenagers refusing to deal with their problems and so drinking poison here. And the suicide pacts! Don't even get me started on the suicide pacts! I mean, a sale's a sale but we never get any repeat customers and it's always kind of depressing."

"I don't think you understand," Romeo claimed. "You are really poor and I am really rich. I've decided poison would be better than stabbing myself so don't think you're going to save my life by not selling me poison. I will also give you a lot of money and, after tonight, won't be able to tell anyone about you selling this to me. Besides, no witnesses."

"You make a compelling case," the worker admitted, going to retrieve a vial of poison. "Plus, well, you're kind of a jerk so I won't even mind…"

* * *

"Friar John!" Friar Lawrence cried out as he saw the other friar passing by him.

Friar John stopped and bowed slightly to Friar Lawrence. "Hello."

"How did Romeo take the news that Juliet had faked her own death?" Friar Lawrence asked. He really, really wanted to get away with secretly marrying the two of them but he didn't see any reason not to expand the slightest bit of effort in his quest and at least let Romeo know what happened.

Friar John winced. "Well…about that…"

Friar Lawrence winced. "That is _not_ what I want to hear!"

"Oh, no, I understand that but if you want to know what happened then you have to hear it," Friar John explained.

Friar Lawrence strongly considered just giving it all up as a bad job and walking away. He sighed instead. "Tell me what happened."

"I was shut up in a quarantine house because the plague had broken out and was unable to deliver the letter," Friar John said, complying with the request.

"I heard that Mercutio wished for an outbreak of plague as he lay dying…" Friar Lawrence said thoughtfully. "I wonder…"

"Wonder what?" Friar John asked blankly. "And what exactly is going on here, anyway?"

"You may go now," Friar Lawrence said hastily, walking away himself to avoid having to answer any of those perfectly valid questions.

He went back into his room so as to not look crazy when he began talking to himself.

"So Romeo does not know that Juliet is alive and so therefore will not be on hand to rescue her. I guess that means that _I'll_ have to do it," the friar said grudgingly. "Actually, that probably should have been the plan to begin with as getting Juliet smuggled out of city limits would be much safer than having Romeo sneaking around the Capulet catacomb. Oh, well, too late to change the plan we're no longer following now. And I should send Romeo another letter. I just hope that nobody told him about Juliet's 'death' and he actually believes it and does something stupid. I'll just keep Juliet in my cell and hope that nobody thinks I'm some kind of a pervert. The things I do for stupid teenagers…"

* * *

"Since I was so very nearly engaged to her and absolutely in love with her despite speaking to her maybe once, I must do my duties as an almost almost husband," Paris declared. "Page, leave me."

The page left after handing Paris a basket of flowers and he scattered flowers on Juliet's grave. He heard a whistle indicating that someone was coming. Normally he would not have bothered since he wasn't actually doing anything wrong but in this case he thought that Lord Capulet might get the wrong idea and didn't want to risk getting killed over a misunderstanding. He quickly hid behind one of the headstones.

Romeo and Balthasar road up and Romeo jumped off of his horse practically before it stopped.

"I _would_ thank you for accompanying me if it wasn't for the fact that I specifically told you to go away and not bother me," Romeo said, annoyed. "Why didn't you do that again?"

"It might have had something to do with the fact that you're openly talking about killing yourself, sir," Balthasar replied.

"I am not," Romeo denied.

"Then why are we here?" Balthasar demanded.

"I, uh, gave Juliet a very expensive ring and I would like it back," Romeo claimed.

Balthasar was unimpressed. "Really."

"Yes, really," Romeo said defensively. "Why?"

"You honestly expect me to believe that we risked your possible death if we're caught here so you could grave-rob y our own wife?" Balthasar demanded. He stopped and thought about it. "Although, actually, that does sound like the kind of thing that you would do…"

"Yes, exactly, not go away," Romeo said, trying to shoo him off. "And in the morning, deliver the letter to my father and pretend not to have any idea what's happening."

"That just feels the tiniest bit irresponsible," Balthasar protested.

"You're not paid to make me be responsible!" Romeo argued. "Now go before I fire you!"

"Geez, fine, I will," Balthasar said. "Try not to die, will you, Romeo? Unless you really mean to fire me in which case do what you will." With that Balthasar walked away. He still stayed close enough to be able to watch what was happening but Romeo wasn't very observant and so he wouldn't notice him.

Romeo had finally gotten close enough for Paris to identify him.

"That's that villain Romeo!" he realized. "The one who killed Tybalt and thus indirectly killed Juliet!"

Romeo, however unobservant he was, wasn't actually deaf and so his head immediately shot up. "What? How is Juliet's death in any way my fault? Well, aside from the fact that her marriage to me made her marriage to that old ugly guy Paris completely impossible."

"_I'm_ Paris!" Paris cried out, offended, focusing on what he considered the most relevant part.

"Oh," Romeo said, embarrassed. "Sorry. It's totally true but kind of rude. Now, what does Juliet's death have to do with Tybalt?"

"You brutally murdered Tybalt for no reason-" Paris started to explain.

"Justifiably avenged your own freaking cousin Mercutio," Romeo countered.

"And Juliet was just so sad about this that even knowing that she would be marrying _me_ was not enough to convince her that life was worth living and so she just wasted away overnight and died," Paris accused.

Romeo rolled his eyes. "If she were _that_ attached to him I'd say things were getting a little incestuous. It was her 'cheering up' engagement to _you_ that killed her! She couldn't stand to be a bigamist."

"Juliet wasn't married!" Paris cried out angrily.

Romeo gestured to himself. "Totally married her. And it was awesome. We had sex and everything but don't tell her father."

"I _will_ tell her father!" Paris threatened. "Assuming I don't kill you right here and now! Why are you even here?"

"Um…ring or something…" Romeo murmured, not wanting to admit the real reason.

"I know!" Paris exclaimed. "Since you've been exiled from this city on pain of death – possibly – then you must _really_ hate Capulets and you've come here to disfigure Tybalt's corpse and possibly Juliet's! Die, you bastard!"

"Wait, let's not fight," Romeo said listlessly.

Paris didn't listen and soon Romeo had run Paris through.

"My last request…is to be laid…near my dear Juliet," Paris managed to say.

Romeo snorted. "Are you kidding? Juliet is _my_ love. Go find your own. Or don't since, you know, you're dead and all."

Romeo just left Paris where he was and went to go find Juliet.

"She's so beautiful," Romeo said, sitting down next to Juliet and admiring her beauty. "It's almost like she's just sleeping." He place a hand on her cheek. "And she still feels warm just as if she's just sleeping. I can almost feel her breathing…"

He took the vial of poison in it and took the cap off. "This is my last chance to make a good dying monologue. Mercutio had a pretty good one and Tybalt totally ripped his off. Paris's was rather terrible but, then, so was his. I'm all alone so no one would think me crazy for rehearsing. On the other hand, no one is here to hear it either so why waste the effort?"

He kissed Juliet on the – surprisingly warm – lips and downed the potion before kissing her again.

Juliet chose to wake up then and when she saw Romeo beside her she didn't immediately realize that something was wrong. "Oh my Romeo, I knew that you'd come for me!" She kissed him briefly.

Romeo groaned. "Should've…done that…death monologue…" The he collapsed.

"Romeo?" Juliet asked, shocked and horrified. She shook him. "That's not funny, Romeo! Wake up!"

The friar, meanwhile, was quickly making his way towards Juliet and he ran into Balthasar.

"What are you doing here?" the friar demanded.

"Oh, Romeo asked me to leave while he was doing whatever but he was being suicidal so I decided not to," Balthasar explained.

"What's that body?" the friar asked, indicating Paris.

"I'm sure I have no idea," Balthasar said virtuously. "But I did have this dream where Paris thought that Romeo was here to disfigure some corpses and so tried to kill him and Romeo killed him first. And because it was a dream, that's why I didn't do anything to try and help the situation at all."

"I see," the friar said disapprovingly, seeing right through him. He ran into the tomb to find a distraught Juliet holding Romeo's dead body. "Oh, Juliet. Um…yeah."

Furious, Juliet turned accusing eyes on him. "What the hell happened? Why did Romeo just up and die in front of me?"

"It's actually kind of a funny story," the friar said, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'm sure it is," Juliet said coldly. "Tell it to me, if you'd be so kind."

"My messenger was quarantined and couldn't let Romeo know the truth and I guess he heard about your death from some other source that thought that you were truly dead and so he…reacted very badly," the friar said, a bit lamely.

"I blame you," Juliet accused.

"Hey, I tried to warn him! I was even coming here to rescue you and go track down Romeo!" the friar protested. "Although the good news is that Paris is also dead so at least you won't have to marry him and even if you did, suddenly that's legal again!"

"It's too soon to look on the bright side," Juliet said flatly.

There was a noise. "That must be the coming of the watch! Look, Juliet, I'd love to help you, kid, but not if it means that I get in trouble for any of this. Come with me and we'll work something out."

"I think I'd rather stay here and die," Juliet told him.

"I…You really shouldn't but I don't have time to convince you," the friar said, running off.

"Romeo has drunk poison," Juliet noted. "Maybe there's enough poison left to kill me, too." She looked in the vial but it was empty and then kissed Romeo's lips, hoping to be able to ingest enough poison that way but after a few moments of waiting she had to give that up, too.

Then she spotted the dagger. "Hey! This will work." She positioned the dagger above her heart, sucked in her breath, and closed her eyes, about to do the deed. Then she abruptly stopped. "But wait…Romeo's last words were about doing a death monologue. I can't go against _those_, after all. I guess I should try and work one out myself. Um…I do not want to die but Romeo is dead and Paris is dead, too, I guess and now there literally is no chance of a happy ending for me and Romeo here. Maybe in the next life, which I hope will be heaven despite our suicide, we will get to be together. And so it appears like this is a tragic ending but, really, it's not."

She closed her eyes again and prepared to stab herself but when she brings the blade down, she couldn't feel any pain. Was that normal? Juliet opened her eyes to see that she had not managed to stab herself after all but rather her father's hand.

He seemed not to notice, however. "Juliet!" he kept crying, near tears. "It's a miracle! You're alive!"

"I…Hello, Father," Juliet said a little awkwardly.

"I'm sure that there's a story about why you looked dead and Paris is dead outside and Romeo Montague is dead just a few feet away from us and you were about to stab yourself but I don't even want to hear it right now," Lord Capulet said, waving his still hand that was not currently stabbed around.

Juliet quickly removed the dagger from his hand.

"Well _I_ want to know what happened," snapped Lord Montague. "My son is dead!"

Juliet looked up to see that in addition to her father, the prince, some page, some servant of Romeo's, a few guards, Benvolio, and Lord Montague were in the room and the friar had returned.

"Do you know what happened?" Lord Montague demanded.

"My daughter was recently dead," Lord Capulet snapped. "I'm sure she has no idea."

"Well I _just _managed to talk my wife out of dying out of grief for Romeo's _exile_ and how she'll probably drop dead at hearing of his death," Lord Montague countered.

"Ask the friar," Juliet said bitterly. "I'm sure he can tell you."

"You said you wouldn't tell!" the friar cried out, his eye twitching.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Well?" the prince asked archly. "I'm waiting. And since _another_ one of my cousins just died, I don't have a lot of patience. Also, someone go wrap up Lord Capulet's hand. All that bleeding is distracting me."

Paris's page went over to do as requested.

Nervously, the friar swallowed. "Well, Romeo and Juliet met at a party and wanted to get married. They said that it might stop the feud and, well, I think we can all agree that would be a good thing. So I married them but Tybalt didn't approve of the marriage when he found out so he tried to kill Romeo and Mercutio died instead. Romeo killed Tybalt in revenge but Juliet couldn't marry Paris while Romeo yet lived. Completely independently of my suggestion, Juliet decided the rational course of action was to fake her own death then go find Romeo and let you guys know they were alive when they had a grandchild."

"It was _absolutely_ your idea to fake my own death! I just wanted to tell everyone," Juliet protested.

"I would have accepted it," Lord Capulet said solemnly. "Your love for Romeo and not your getting married at thirteen. I'm going to need to take awhile to process that that happened. That's exactly what I _didn't_ want for you."

Juliet hung her head. "I know and I'm sorry. It's just that I loved him and because of Paris and the feud we couldn't wait. Plus he was kind of fickle."

"Right," Lord Montague scoffed. "Like you would have just been perfectly fine with your daughter marrying my son."

"My love for my daughter and desire to see her happy is stronger than my rage at the Montague," Lord Capulet swore.

"Yeah?" Lord Montague asked rhetorically, not about to be outdone in the parenting department despite Juliet being alive and Romeo being dead. "Well _I_ loved Romeo so much that I would have let them marry, too!"

"If only we had told someone…" Juliet cried out in despair.

Lord Capulet quickly confiscated the knife.

"How about we use this as lesson and end the feud?" the prince asked eagerly. "It is _really _stupid and has cost Verona and the three of us personally way too much. What was it even about anyway?"

"I…um…" Lord Montague stammered.

"I think it was…no…" Lord Capulet mused.

"_Sex_ was probably involved," Lord Montague declared. "It usually is."

"And murder," Lord Capulet added.

"But how is it even if my son is dead and his daughter isn't?" Lord Montague demanded. "That's not fair!"

Lord Capulet stepped protectively in front of Juliet and brandished the dagger at Romeo's father. "I will cut you."

"Tybalt's dead and Benvolio isn't," the prince countered. "And both Paris and Mercutio are dead. It's _even_."

"It's even assuming that I get to kill the friar for enabling my thirteen-year-old daughter to get married and have s-have se-to be married!" Lord Capulet cried out.

The prince nodded. "I'll allow it."

"But-" the friar protested and the guards dragged him out of the room.

"So wait," Benvolio said slowly, not quite able to look at his cousin's body. "Was Romeo ever banished or what?"

"Huh?" the prince asked, surprised. "No, of course not. I'm sorry if that caused any problems. I just didn't want Lady Capulet nagging me until I did something about that fight even though it didn't seem necessary and Tybalt brought it on himself."

"Hey!" Lord Capulet objected automatically. He sighed. "You're probably right…"

"So…feud over?" the prince asked Lord Montague.

"Fine," Lord Montague said, sighing. "But just to prove that we mean this and that Romeo and Juliet totally could have been together because we really love our children, I say that we marry Juliet and Benvolio to each other."

"Wait, what?" Benvolio asked, alarmed.

"Yeah, it will be perfect," Lord Montague said, nodding to himself. "And combined, think of how powerful our families can be! Juliet?"

"Assuming I don't succeed in killing myself, I don't even care," Juliet told them. "He's only a couple of years older than me and he is kin to my dear dead Romeo…"

"She won't succeed in killing herself," Lord Capulet said seriously. "We're putting her on suicide watch. And remember, you can always change your mind later if you don't want to do this."

"So can you!" Lord Montague said quickly.

"You're not even giving me a choice," complained Benvolio.

"Just not for two more years!" Lord Capulet said insistently. "Remember, everyone, I'm a good parent!"

It's the End so Review Please!


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